All the plants bear no flowers.
And the bees visit, smell the scent,
Suck honey, faint and hum hymns,
blossoms some which spread their perfumes,
as Nature has given them fragrance.
All the flowers don't grow into tender fruits
and all the fruits aren't sweet
to enthral those who pull their hearty strings,
and chant songs of pleasure in abundant measure.
Some are born great and some books are chewed
and some birds mesmerize the sleepless folk,
who turn their emotions into poesies!
My Gazalle with her charming and warming voice
has taken births many in my songs writ in madness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem