[Dedicated to Aung San Suu Kyi, the cool headed killer of the Rohingya people in Arakan]
I cultivated roses in my garden;
I thought I would offer you a garland.
But when the flowers heard your name,
They all fell off in shame like dead leaves.
Now there are only thorns for you.
I cultivated birds in my forest;
I thought I would make you hear their songs.
But when they heard your name,
They all fell down dead in sorrow.
Now there is only hatred for you.
