The garden, the garden, I’m sure.
That the garden will grow and be pure.
With the flowers and plants,
And the smells that we chant.
And the nature, the garden allures.
With the bushes, the bugs and the trees.
And the waters, the slow-cooling breeze.
Will now watch here and know,
That a garden here grows.
And everything else that may be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nicely written piece. Enjoyed the read!