i open my eyes again too early
to budding fruits atop a tree
dew still clinging to leaves
reflecting shadows of grass
patiently waiting it to drop
with help from breeze; flop
ants are already up there
combing tiny green hairs
something inside growing
every minute taking water
soon be so sweet and pretty
to eyes adoring with envy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem