It is past glory
That we feel sorry
Once high with head
Now it is completely dead
Think of no past
Even if it was glorious and not to last
It is wisdom of nature
And makes it sure
Old vanishes
And comes up fresh
With new flowers
From natural showers
We have powerful ancestral history
And we never worry
For already dead braves
They are now in grave
It is good to take care
Nourish them with fresh water
Allow room for new branches to emerge
And rewrite their appearance on page
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem