All the letters,have a home,Primer is its name,worth more than gold.
One by one the letters,dance there,the gold they hold inside,into every word they pour.
With them begins the knowledge,that spreads across the world,the weight that it has,is measured only by the oka.
But the letters have a great trouble,only when we forget them,that is why they deeply despair,and stop the dance.
Quietly spoke the A,before her friends:A kingdom for us,is only THE TRUTH.
With us lies are also written,and many wicked deeds,but against our will,and when our strength leaves us.
And, a great wish,the first a had,not to walk upon the earth,but to be a butterfly.
Even so I fly,with the a of the airplane,and with all my friends,we go across the ocean.
When we land in the homeland,we fly again,because in our Albania,we continue the dance.
