And then one day with a gust of wind
the leaf finally gave up and fell
and while other leaves rejoiced the monsoon gushes
it danced and swayed and fell.
And after a long time
someone passed by and thought
how beautiful it really was.
That if it wasnt for how gracefully the leaf fell,
What good was the blowing of the wind at all?
Oh how I wish to say, as I sit in my empty tavern
that I am not that leaf,
that i never gave up and never fell.
Oh how I wish to say you are not that wind,
and how I know you are
and my darling, you're great still.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem