On the morning when each little flowers,
open their wings.
The solemn Clouds pour the showers,
my heart in joy jump and sings:
'Wow! Mighty bless granted again,
host of roses blooming today.
So all the pain is getting the pain,
Yellow smile today without a ray.
Be the joy in a cup of bowl,
gathered and kept all along.
Today is there no yawning stroll,
all there is to sing a song.'
Rest the world upon me lie,
leaving by heart; the kings and high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a beautiful poem, young poet.