The wagon took a turn,
Started climbimg up slowly,
The blue of the mountans
Appeared in sight,
Majestic in posture,
With so many peaks,
Green blanket of forest,
Blue clouds crowned over,
Moving in tandem,
The serpentain road
With hairpin bends,
Passing over stone bridges,
Over riculets and surfed falls,
We moved into the dewed
Air, sights blurred,
To end almost near the peak,
With cold winds sending
Shivers over our bodies,
The blue mountain
Is unique with smells
Of perfumed and eucaliptes
Smell freshening our breath.
Ravikiran Arakkal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem