willow, lovely lovely
hair of nature
it is an exibitionist
but always in a very
unobstrusive way
never taking too much
to show off
when comes
the breeze, the most
it would do is
sway along and hums
little ditties of cheer
unlike others
it never leaves
too much to clean up
after its season party
for instance the maple
which always strewns
the whole street
red and scarlet with its spillage
when it rains, the willow helps drip
the heavens dry
and when we are up to our tops
with fury, it lowers us down
to lanes of equilibrium
letting our rage runs quietly
down its smooth green ladders
so that we stay sane
here are the willows,
they are saviours in
sealing up scars, letting
your moods run swiftly
from self destructions
to high hopes for the morrow
they even lighten up racist tendencies
here are the willows
let your hair down
croon to its humble songs
and follow its modest sways
to loosen up tightened knots
as you hang on to the ropes of survival
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem