The Garden Is Sipping Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

The garden is sipping the ripe water,
The wind is holding basil’s fragrance.
The night is splashing the ink at the being,
The grieves are melting
under the night’s warmth
The sky cries out from flooding lung,
Their roof with leaves
The ants are covering
Not to become wet
Out come mushrooms
Carrying their umbrellas
The sky would weep not ceasing,
I don’t know what
Would sooth and calm it
On a branch there are sitting
With wet wings unable to fly
Oh, Sky, why are crying
On the earth looking.
The joy of the entire land
Is flowing around
Oh, rain, stop muttering,
Or else I will cry,
Looking up at the sky.