The bud has come full bloom,
and thorns and weeds make room.
The clouds are passing and laughing with joy,
the bud has come full bloom.
The wind it whistles as it brushes by,
the bird is singing, watching from high.
The earth I give for your roots to grow,
the bud has come full bloom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem