Аянгын шар тойрог
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On a beautiful autumn day with leaves and flowers, a very young girl stood in front of a mound of dirt hidden in the lap of the mountain, saddened. A single tear rolled down her apple-pink cheeks. The drop grew bigger and bigger and fell on the bumpy brown earth. It was a tear of mourning and bitterness. Under the navel-brown soil of the continent, the first love and the first seed, the lessons of his innocent youth, slept forever. He sighed until the field wind blew. There was no name on the grave. Only a cubit of white stone glistened in the evening sun. This is a land mark that indicates the failed fate of his first love.
