Everything smells so good,
Like the pinks and reds and yellows
Like old leaves and grass in the sun
The distant rain, noisy birds unseen,
The drifts of jasmine and honeysuckle.
The lake is serene, calm, a perfect circle
High grass, the whole scene buzzing.
A thin strip of beach boarders,
Wavelets embrace the sands.
Here, on a turret perch a few sea gulls,
Share their day's musings across the waters,
To the yonder hills, waterfalls and dales,
And the tales told by the ever murmuring winds.
Everything feels good,
Like the dancing tulips on the Square,
The sparrows chirping all around,
The clouds painting over the western horizon
And the throbbing life on the patios.
Watching these bucolic scenes
I walk along the brick laden pavement.
Life is a scene after scene,
Ceaseless, a poem
That has a beginning but no end.
10th September 2017
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You are a painter who paints with words.