Walking through the moistly ground
Slowly with the bare foot;
Glancing at the enormous woods to found,
Birds making a sound of flute.
Taking the path to nowhere,
Unblocking the leaves that passes by;
Follow the light seen somewhere;
A melody's tune like a lullaby.
The wind that breaks the stillness
of the leaves that stays calm,
It kept hanging on the firm branches;
and swaying sweetly like a purple plum.
'Twas perfectly molded by the creator wise,
with colorful butterflies and surrounding green,
It's the perfect home called paradise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem