abode the meadow of flocking birds, and
echo the whole land it’s the season of
harvest, let the trumpeters loud its voice,
the great Jubilation has now welcome the
new horizon of hope and joy
let all the angels sing the beginning of
another years to stay, the gazing star of the
universe tremendously guide and leads the
whole way to the window of the galaxy
look at back, the stream goes without the
storm and the birds fly with each feather
silent the calmness of the wind beneath the
dazzling clouds of the sky
subside all the grain and wait until time
comes to grow in the land that makes it
flow and mold as a seed; the harvester has
joyfully hold the bleed and sow, till the
next season set to end
glance for a while, the birds have lovingly
fly for the sower to go …
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem