When gardens begin to die
In these scorching sun and times
Where shall we go to smell flowers sweet?
When gardens die for a season
I do not see a change, I see only an end.
Some one ordered me to be pessimistic.
A flying bird comes down to my abode
And asks all of a sudden, `How are you friend? `
I tell her a lie, ` I am happy in my garden`.
The clouds have a promise to fulfill
They must break into water drops.
To let our plants live in a garden.
Oh! cast off your gloom and enjoy the flowers around! The parched gardens have resurrected under the cooling showers! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
oh what a fantastic poem u have composed...sound enchanting