As it goes for the willow,
Stretching to bend as the wind begins...
To stop and end briefly,
The humidity and heat.
And moss on scattered trees,
Seen in savannahs tropical and green...
Seem so picturesque as if painted.
As it goes for those swamped in bills to pay...
In need of a lilting breeze to come their way.
A nature walk through the forest,
Will take a mind away to untaint...
From needless trappings of concrete beliefs,
Stuck in the mire of an attracted grief,
One uses to declare...
A normal way of life to live!
As it goes for the willow,
Flowing freely yet attached to all that is...
Without appearing to have needs to be,
Something it was not intended.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem