Always blowing away with the wind
Did you get a hint
Who I am?
Started my journey from the hand of Sam*
Without a clue where going
Moving without bowing
To anyone in way
You all say
That a bad habbit
On my journey I sometimes see a rabbit
Do you know who I am?
I am only a poor dried up leaf!
*Sam is the boy who picked the leaf and let go of it when the wind was blowing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Irrespective of your age, this is a lovely piece of poetry. It has a feeling of Aesop about it, but for me, I love things like this. A real joy to read, Athul, and a great pleasure to have you posting on this site as you bring an element of quality to the place. Thank you my friend!