New Millennium Room-Salon Poem by Tengre Asasiun Gurun Tengre

It's the hallowed five one eight day,
When it comes the memorial service day.
The people who want to join the ritual
Must wash off their body and spiritual
Pollution by strong gin and lady's smell,
Young and women's flesh and cosmetic smell.

And they must call names to whom, the disturber.
It's the only their rite, to be a joiner
At the hollowed ritual. The smell of the liquors
And the young girls' breathing, recollecting the servers,
They‘re weeping and singing a song at the ritual.
When finishing, they seek for the other ritual.