The weeping brook whispers
To the boulders and pebbles
Moaning its awaited fate,
The sun quietly lifts her soul
Professing love throughout the summer.
The wind sighs over the prattling pebbles,
The birds cry savagely from thirst.
The moon comes like a fairy,
White pebbles glisten, white pebbles speak
Alarmed, finding their tears dried up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem