Yellow bird, black bird
And all birds came to me
While I was sleeping.
My shadow was no more with me
And the space was not lying vacant,
I approached the birds to sit there.
And they all sat under that tree,
The tree is really not mine.
Still I love the tree with its
detached leaves and flowers and fruits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem