Our breeze is chameleon.
When it's dry as desert
it whips at trees and all forms of life.
Roams a loveless ruler.
Some of us may have found it- repenting.
Resurrection.
New attire, smile- pleasing, rolling,
It gets world of 'Likes'.
Where do you come from breeze,
destination?
I've seen you flowing, carrying generations.
Exact replica.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is one of your best, Sumit. I liked every line of it from the image of the chamelon onwards.
Thank you Tom.