What makes the sun cry,
has the flower weeping.
The rain that blooms the field,
is chased away, in disarray.
West wind comes to calm the storm,
Time navigate.
The sun slowly drifts away,
to a conscious place.
At speed of light,
She meditate.
Planted in due season,
puddle of water;
refreshed the stem,
Time propagate.
The north wind blows,
carried away on east wing;
across good memory lane,
as the bright cloud underneath the blue sky;
gather together in one place;
flower revived on smiley lane,
rain drops in merry way,
Time cultivate
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I would like to translate this poem