Mankind, so high and mighty
Takes scant heed of such things
As death of fur and feathers
Of prickles, hides and wings
The cuckoos and the nightingales
That chant above the grass
They celebrate each pilgrimage
Of little souls that pass
They keep midsummer vigil
Of the bees’ marriage bed
Where ghosts of hens and butterflies
From farmlands have fled
The barleys’ rustle cheers them
A verdant waterfall
Of notes and trills of crickets
That under-strum it all
They hear the grains’ concerto
As sweet as Mendelssohn
And treasure raindrops’ echoes
When summer storms have gone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Try, man pays little or no heed to the nature where immense joy awaits him loved reading the poem.