Birds chanting in his garden
Having rhythm of their own
Work no longer a burden
Mild is his tone
When the day breaks
He awakes
Serving his plants
Nourishing as he wants
He works to learn than to earn
Works till twilight
With his best
Arrives his abode of delight
For some rest
Stories of hope and joy
Make him enjoy
Going deep in imagination
For him is a source of recreation
He laughs, cries and screams
In his world of dreams
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem