Yousif Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla
Biography: Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla was born on 9th of March 1986 in Khartoum - Sudan . People always call him (Shakespeare) he went to University of Juba- School of Arts and Humanities- Departmentof English Language. He works as a TEFL teacher, Author, Journalist, Activist, IELTS/TOEFL preparation trainer and Freelance interperter / Translator provides Arabic to English Translation, proofreading , editing, interperted multiple in person interview and workshops for the documentary. Highly acquainted with. political. economical , legal documents, technical phraseology to ensure correct Translation Reviewed and Translation of books . He's inspired poet from the country of exquisite natural beauty, ancient historical attractions and inhabitants well versed in the art of hospitality in central Africa beloved Sudan. He is fond of poetry writing about life and whole thing that happen to human kind, either good or bad. He has got the collection of poems that he writes in various issues: socio-cultural, lamentation, lyrical, narrative, political, love, friendship, pain, especial events of my life, , etc and environmental as well, he always publishes many articles and poems on Sindh Courier is an online news service in Karachi, Pakistan. He had have been worked as a debate leader discussing various topics in many English Institutes, centers, academy and schools over 10 years, and sometimes he helps foreigners who come to visit our state to work with them as a translator or trip guider also, he helps international business people communicate more effectively and comfortably in British English. He does this virtually as non a native speaker, he supports people gain the confidence needed to improve and master accent management is key to intelligibility and thus pronunciation training has become a primary focus of his personalized sessions. He focuses on helping my clients learn how english language system. He also can be reached at: americanslang64@gmail.com
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No Child Is Safe In El fasher

There would be acres eating dust soot,

Where quietness shouting and hearts are broken and wounded,

We devour screeching of pain,

Toppling on strong-willed ears in hollow,

We see children mourning over dead roots, 

We hold disabled by sulk,

We shattered marbles in deep ebbing,

Your crumble sympathy sticking,

Ashes, entrails, and blood deluged us,

almost noticeable are being doomed bourgeois,

lateral casualty of torture,

No tenets, no endowment, no distinction,

Slaughtered surrounded by garnishing firing,

To nest the raider with a sense of right,

To advocate the abandonment of powerless children,

To vanish the war, children alone in dilemma,

Witness fugitive camp in desert wasteland,

Lost children adhesive to each other for ambition,

we penetrate with pain in my heart,

The torture of children 

We have fated to grind, how untenable it is,

To rise by while they taste death,

Children who have no more tears to yowl,

Your spotless stares craving good for nothing,

Your frangible heads are shown to us as attestation as generosity lays by ill-fated,

We turn off the torch at night and grasp that,

pardon will never be granted to the human race,

Until we take each other’s hands as one nation,

Allied, in our prevalent intention,

Making judgment pleads for tenderness,

Above everything,

Every child demands to be sheltered.



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