Feel the Zephyr kiss
Fragrant necks, rosy cold cheeks
Brushed by browns and reds
Chirping birds whirling
Colors on meadows blooming
Clouds aloft shifting
Greens mellowed slowly
Goldens falling graciously
Gliding stealthily
Thunderclap echoes
A howling of stormy winds
Pounding foamy surfs
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the picture you paint. If the poem were to be a colour, it would be a zardozi pink.