I looked from my window
And watched as the shining red apples,
Fell one by one
From my neighbour's tree.
There was nobody there
Who could catch them,
Nor could gather them
From off the ground.
So there they remained
Hidden amongst the overgrown weeds,
As the cold wind blew
And the season changed.
2011
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Verily, it was a wastage, if the neighbor had intimated to collect and use it, then it would have been a virtue