In the court of the rose
at the watermill of the gods
blows the morning breeze.
At the courtgates of the house of winds
on the street with the blooming acacias
it stops to rest
(But rises sunscythed freshly awakened)
At the lake with the waterfowl
in the domain of the pomegranate tree
breathless the morning breeze.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love the freedom of the wind.No one can really contain it yet we fear it in storms and we love it when it's hot outside.Another ten.If you get a chance please read my poem Song to a Drifter.Thank you.