Under the blue sky,
Under the puffy clouds,
Under the shinning disc,
There in hot breeze
Sits an humble tree
Having a tranquil slumber
His head nods
To the banters of the passing wind
And the pleasure of his afternoon sleep
A man feeds a grunting tire
A lorry-man honks
The feeding machine cries aloud
The lorry-man honks
The slumbering tree nods still
To cries of running steel
Under the blue sky,
Under the puffy clouds,
Under the shinning disc,
There in hot breeze
Rests a calm wood -
Reeking of sagacity
Donning an aura of victory
Whispering:
'Your troubles didn't get to me! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem