A brown rock-pigeon, flutters just past the porch
picks up some small insects from the mown lawn
from where it continually calls its mate,
at a distance sparrows splash in water.
An auburn colour flames in the sun
stretching right over some gleaming feathers
while he keeps on catching tiny insects,
before his cooing attracts some more doves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem