In the heart of Myanmar, Amidst the scorching sun, The streets come alive,
With the sound of joy and fun.
It's Thingyan, the Burmese New Year, A time to let go of the past, A time to wash away our fears, And start anew at last.
The water flows in abundance, From buckets, hoses, and guns,
A symbol of purification,
To cleanse our souls, everyone.