The violet petals
Balanced upon green
Stalk droop gently
To the sparse weight
Of the cool wind
Of the morning
The meditating bee
Can't catch the dusts
Cloyed with essence
To fulfill the purpose
Of its migration
From flower to flower
The mist will melt
The dew will vanish
The sun will spill its
Warm ray upon them
The wind will sleep
In the lap of the grove
It is time for the bee
To sip its share of nectar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful word painted picture of a winter morning- so vivid, so soothing - -Thanks for sharing your lovely poem, poet Anil Kumar Panda.