Wind realizes that she must avoid the way
As the poor fellow builds a House!
Rain promised not to be there
Until he finishes the roof.
Sun gets up early to make his foundation strong.
And the Moon protects his innocent bricks
From the thieves in the night.
This Homeless built myriad of Houses
Along the unending cycle of Births & Deaths?
All were Museums now and the skeletons of Scarecrows
Remained there!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem