Trees are the living-ones, they have
Their hearts and souls, the souls
Which reverberate love in the hearts
Of philocalists, the philocalist owls.
They see, they sing, they hear, they taste,
And they sense our senses in true sense,
They are makers; they make poets,
Obliqueness is their beauty, and fragrance.
Winds are their messengers, their lovers
Are flutterbies, bees and we, the poets,
Every leaf that falls down reverberates her
Sonnet, ballad of life, and odes.
The last leaf tells her story and
Acompanies her friends- in the grove,
They tell their ballads to wandering winds
And winds sing it to buds and bees.
The ballads must be set in autumn archive,
O, poet Bikhabar Khoshdel, the philosophy must be alive.
That is very true: I have a tree, in a forest, I visit every year, and I embrace it (literally!) . There is a spiritual communication between a tree and the human soul: it calms the spirit, it relaxes you, it helps you find the path through the forest!
they have.... Their hearts and souls They see, they sing, the hear, they taste, And they sense our senses in true sense.... //.... What a fascinating poem where trees assume the role of a poet's true companions to enrich life all around. Thanks for sharing the poem.
Nature has given us nature, it's ours duty to behave naturally. Thank you, Sir, for the kind appreciation. It matters a lot.
Yes dense and large trees with a wide shelter appear like philosophers. a lovely poem.
Write comment. Such a lovely poem, Jagdish Singh. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes. Trees have souls which reverberate love.... Wonderful poem indeed.