The gentle breeze is blowing,
The green leaves of the boughs are enjoying,
Easily they are swinging and sparkling,
As if it has no ending.
But the tree is not shining
For the yellow and crinkled leaves in the boughs are tottering,
In the busy and spirited world of the green,
The yellow leaves can not shine;
But that is the way of life of this world,
Both the green and the yellow are inseparable part of this journey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem