Little bulbul at my window,
To what purpose are you singing?
Can't you hear the noise and clamour?
Can't you sense the disaccord?
Who, amid this blare, will ever
Hear your gentle mellow tunes?
Go blend with the glens of calmness:
Here's no place for birds that tweet;
Here's a place for birds of prey
Whose essence is to tear and eat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderful poem.no place for the mild, only wild