You're nothing but wind, I'm the flower.
If thee blow gently, I swing in thy lap
Then, I look beautifully,
And thee can lull thy babies on me,
That gives pleasure to their hearts.
I'm happy, while the baby plays with me,
and I bless 'may you live long'.
I'll flourish, if thee blow quietly
Then gives sweet fragrant to thee,
And can make a maid as bride,
that brings pompous to her visage.
I feel shy, when her fingertips touch me smooth,
'Congratulations on her wedding' I say.
If thee blow furiously, no life me,
Then I languish, with petals lost
Am strewn on a coffin,
I torment, when the mourners trod into ground
Yet, I say 'farewell' to the corpse.
Oh dear! Life in thy hands save it
..... And in thy bosom save it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem