Bright colors can't be counted
Fantastic shapes and sizes,
The breeze is nice,
Singing birds,
Of the branches of the tree,
Which I sit underneath
The sky is clear,
Distant mountains towering,
I pondered about the many colorful pebbles-
Next to the valley where the water is not being here for weeks-
I took in my hand some pebbles,
So to see them close
I counted seventeen various colors
Shades and shadows under that big lovely tree.
What a wonderful nature!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem