the night is cute and mute
from my parent's fight and feud
but the sound constantly chirps
from leafy summer's crickets
neither it has music nor song nor tune
but its mother nature's croon
which lull me into a dreamless slumber
though hovering ghostly grumble
oh crickets
will u chirp for me in winter?
when the grasses are white and withered
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the first two lines are shocking! Parents have never realized how their children would feel while they fought! but a poetic mind is at work! Nice!