i am simply amazed with the way the
clouds keep on changing themselves
and sadly, the winds do not really admit
their faults how they blow harder and how
they stop when the clouds are carried away
in ecstasy and red with sunset the clouds
are mad to the coming of the night its blackness
overpowering its quest for the good and the true
and the beautiful. The moon sits with the stars
in meditation, what goes wrong? why so silent?
that seems to be their theme in the motif of
stillness and the wind now with the wolves and
dogs howl throughout the night telling the
trees that they are ready for love and lust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem