The tree swayed in nightly pose.
It seemed to like it's posture.
Blowing on a warm summer's breeze,
Hour upon hour.
The tree moved it's branches,
In which ever direction it could.
Wherever in the sky it blew,
It mentioned to me it could.
It said that it should,
Go on with it's pretty nightly dance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem