When I down to the paths
Watching the grasses soaked
In dew and birds taking their early baths
In the simmering water
Of the stream. As the cold wind
Flows over the countryside in the winter
I get sweet fragrance
Of your youth and watch the
Flowers, bees and butterflies in joy dance.
In the morning cold
I feel warm in the sunlight as
The crops shine like a sea of molten gold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Anil excellent piece TFs this Bravo-worthy poem