After a little shower
Your swaying in the mild breeze
Makes you more elegant.
Your deep gray leaves
As if fresh paintings
Enliven my dull times
With new visual splendor.
On the attic where mother worships
There she rings in bells
To awake you in the morning spell
And then I see
Your unbound joy in swaying spree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
god's sublimity is manifested all the time...