Everyone becomes keen
to see the morning sun.
But, can anyone cast your look
to see how morning does turn?
The waning moon, becomes thin,
some flakes of clouds sleep deep.
Along the sea of vast vacuum,
there floats clouds' sleepless ship.
Slowly wind blows over the buds,
to open their drooping eyes.
The morning star, rises to say- - -
Good morning dear guys.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The night giving way to the day is solemn and awe inspiring like any other transfer of positions and it is fun to watch the voyage of clouds across the upland ocean of the Blue! !