It was that kind of afternoon,
when the air was dense and still;
When the sun was pallid like the moon,
and refused to shine at will.
The stubborn silence seemed enforced,
the breathless air reeked stale;
I deemed the quietude coerced,
the earth's heartbeat seemed frail.
A warbling whistle tore into,
that muted frozen time,
Triumphantly, cutting through,
the Koyal's bell-like chime.
Instantly, the stillness broke, I felt the breath of breeze,
The birds awoke and with their song, brought life within the trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem