My Village,
The one i live in,
and the one that lives in me.
Pretty birds,
The whistle of the squirrels
The blowing wind,
The smell of grass,
And-
This spicy earth.
Friends like those village men
and the cattle down near the river,
and those blossoming flowers
The sky so big,
so full of shifting clouds
and then those clouds
creep-
over the fields...
making the green,
shine.
The sun smile at my village,
The moon laugh with my village,
The stars live in my village...
The song of the wind,
sound of rain,
heavy lanes,
full of names...
My village
the one i live in,
the one that lives in me.
Turning wind mills,
The smell of green
from our clean earth
The roar of pixies
underneath
The mornings
with the whole day waiting
full of promise
The nights
so quiet
filled with expectations and dreams...
My village
the one i live in,
and the one that lives in me...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem