Let the birds fly,
And let the trees grow.
Both are going towards the sky.
Look, my head is in the sky,
And I see the sky in so many colors.
But I wonder no color is there in the sky.
With my words, I am not garlanding
The sky nor to colors.
With my words, I am thinking about
The life in the sky with all
Roofs and roots together.
I am not an idiot,
I am also not a liar.
YOu can trust me till the last,
Of course, where is the last
That neither you nor I know.
Not going deep into any other matter,
Let us agree and let the birds fly
As they wish at any time.
I am binding with my words, true.
I am looking for another lot, true.
And I am using the time, to the most, also true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem