The restless stream,
Flowing on an untamed path,
Tears the chest of the valley
And is in an unknown hurry.
Is it to comfort the boulders in its belly
Or in a desire to be a part of the mystery,
It wanders in the hope of a destination?
Who is the referee in the game,
Where the clouds play with the Sun?
Who and why is one hiding behind the snow cap
And who has provided the lustre on this stone?
The slanted rays on the wings of the morning
Wakes me up and gives another day.
The evening breeze fans the heated earth
While a wide and thin veil come down with the dawn.
In them, I look for a harmony and rhythm
And bow before the forces of life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem