Rain comes soft-foot, with the young spring,
Drizzles, drips, to ease the old pain;
Tiny buds still drowsy on the swing,
While boughs shiver stirring by th' lane.
Feb. is transient, none wants it stay,
All grey moods flee, no more of sting;
Hearts on hammock still lulled on sway,
Ready to drift with hearts that sing.
Under my roof, not able to see far,
I see sparrows flying, like blind;
In flocks they be not grieved by bars,
Whatever seek, they always find…
Painful, trying to reach for yon star,
But to give up, who could not mind?
So the foolish I deck'd with scar,
Stand in line for Time's tearful grind.
Feb.25th,2012.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a beautiful poem. I loved its rhyming and flow. Thanks for sharing.