I, the nature, great artist
My own talents there you visible
When the sprinkles of water in air
I takes my brush, pretty small
And draws picture in the great canvas
That made for me in the heaven
There I draws a beautiful bow
The spectrum it makes so nice in sky
The children looks with amazing spirit
I enjoys their happiness in mind
The colors I select in extreme care
Watering in the better spirits
How wonderful the bow in air you see
I am called the picture as rainbow
Where the colors are seven you reckoned
Time is the essence of my picture
And erases with little strain
I am in command of a stern voice
The picture must be rubbed and made clean
The canvas in sky must be ever kept
No one is allowed to make it his own in
In my mind I know this is a beautiful one.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem