“It is the sleepy who want to be heard. Their voices a tempest, their dream is the truth.
Oppressors do not have an entrance to their ears, Never know any answer, Never know where and how. Happy are the journalists who believe in themselves. Knowing all the answers. Till blackness of the night befalls them.
It is the sleepy who will be heard Never too late! Sometimes dreams are long, but real. Sleep leaves the eyes, it is recognition.”