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She decorates herself
All the year round
She too loves perfumes
That reminds her of the season
In Summer like a lonely maiden
She dries her hair with leafy fragrance
When the rains come
She drenches herself
Even often she remains still
Hours with wet clothes.
When the Autumn
She looks at the skies with open mouth
In Late Autumn evening and morn
I feel she enjoys dew drops
When Spring comes, she wears new clothes
And listens eagerly to the music of nightingale
Then again the summer comes
And in amazement I see her
Not to be grown up rather as young as I'm used to see her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem