Velvet mountains
covered in snow
Fingers of wind
through our hair blow
Grass screams out to
spear toward the Sun
Krishna, the flutist,
blows notes for the One
Arjuna, enlightened,
the great warrior prince,
Sends help to our injured
with rose petalled scents
We hope the snow melts
and leads us to Spring
So, once again,
we can all dance and sing...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem