I could see the crests all weighted with colors,
And the fragrant air stirring the sleepy leaves,
I could see them capriciously stroking the roofs,
As they danced against the towering eaves!
The rising moon, the declining sun,
All stood against the same old sky,
Where the clouds yesterday rolled over and played
And the Sun hid beneath, dark and shy.
The summer would be here,
The monsoons would appear,
So would the winter,
And again the Spring so dear.
Days would pass and would heap to years,
And nature would stroke us all with grey,
While she would stand unfaded and youthful,
Every year, in the yonder Spring days!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem