My bed is on the earth
made of mud with dirt
i wish to sleep along banks
where cooler breeze strokes
and cleaner air streams
my earth is full of scents
of newly blossomed blooms
they open at the nights
with secreat chambers in them airtight
nectar in them swells
fills my nostril drums
swimming dreams caress me
with silent touches of soil
and when at mignights
rains slowly stain my eyelashes
with drops of little wetness
they ease me with lovely traces
of smelling earth's Dress.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem