What is that keeps running in my mind always,
What is that, which makes me think I am out of the race,
What is that which makes me inferior always,
What is that made me, without god’s grace;

When the blue sky turned an ugly red,
When the bright white stars fell on the earth’s bed,
When the silent waves roared like thousand lions together,
When the beautiful fragrant flowers, started to wither;

I think I was born, a day not to remember,
The ill luck started, it lasts forever;
Everyone convinces me not to be a pessimist,
But what to do, my problem always persist;

I am lucky for now I’ve become the stone,
Nobody now hits me, for they will moan;
They throw me, but still I am the stone,
Brave, proud and invincible, I stand alone…