The rushed wind are blown,
And cached the odor of bloom.
Wind tells to spread the odor of bloom,
But blooms were not in that mood.
“Give me back my aroma” cried the blooms.
In fear of imprecation wind was leaving,
Leaving some words of sorrow.
That “My hands were locked”,
How can I give it back!
Long time were passed when,
Some new buds were unlocked.
Freedom to enjoy their aroma,
Till wind will come once again.
And cached the odor of bloom.
To spread it all around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem