Caring. Not caring. Light as a leaf.
Floating on freedom - no thought of dying.
Flowers breaking from the ground - stinging the air with their fragrance.
A sense of fidelity sits in the clouds, as birds slip through the air.
A scent of nature is wafted this way, a radio blares and scares it away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem