Old tree with shapes of breast and hips
And boughs outflung.
Ancient statue and the joy of new-born Spring.
My nakedness would flower your destiny
And folly.
But my love seeks the pure folly of the breeze
Its melody.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
pure folly- love New born spring - joy, good one sir.
Thank you, Gajanan. I must read yours soon.