As the flowing river stops for a while
and the singing cuckoo likes to be mute,
as the child evades smiles seeing a face vile,
I don't see people, fallen in pain acute.
Loving is a nice human nature
that boon isn't given to all on earth.
To her gentle eyes I must be a capture;
I think of it and fall in heavenly mirth.
When my ill-fate often batters me,
her music fills my mind with solace.
But where is hiding that ringing bee?
I try in vain to see that graceful face.
Longing to see the face which is on the run
makes the lover's life lively and full of fun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice piece of work. Thanks for sharing this poem with us. E.K.L.