She, coyly, at the break of dawn, sings.
Her honeyed voice graces my ears.
She flaps, she dances, she plays, she giggles,
All these, I'm left breathless.
Petite, sweet bird, she dresses,
So natural, simple elegance, fresh as flower
She sings, I whistle, she sits,
A top a tree, castle I dream, we hold hands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
EXCELLENT AND BEAUTIFUL!