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.