cows spotted thick
skins grazing on the green
field with golden rays of
sunshine
early morning
birds flying hovering
on tree branches
fences, and boundaries
cottage of a farmer
blue clouds now starting
to hover in place
a girl singing butterflies
mother milking the cows
and father beginning
to plow the corn field
no plane above the skies
no rockets
at night some meteors
fall,
wishing stars and
zodiac escapades
from the numbing routine
of traditions
no one escapes
the panorama is closed and
strict
the characters are born
marry, beget children,
and then they die
and get buried
years and years
leaves fall, there are no questions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the simple life, the traditional panorama.... there are no ambitions for technologies.... only simple living we live and die SATISFIED, because we just lived simple.... 'years and years leaves fall, there are no questions.' modernization makes us ambitious...