Whatever she plants it grows rapidly.
Her soft magical fingers devote for a green house.
He was mesmerized to her sing-song while she was in the fields.
Though he passes several times on her premises
He is not so lucky to touch her transparent fingers.
Already a young vegetarian has joined her green revolution.
But once in a way he peeps to buy fresh vegetables.
Then he touches her finger tips.
He lived in his illusion half of the journey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Praise for your lady of the green landscape. This poem is pure enchantment, Nimal. Regards, Sandra