The smell of May is same and different,
When the jasmines arrive in the baskets,
Shape, colors and the scent are unique,
When tied together to wear on the braids,
Thousands of the frail hands plucked,
Each little bud before the dawn and the light,
The odor from their sweat evaporate,
After the sun rise, once the baskets are loaded,
Tons of jasmines from our fertile land,
Bloom every day to prove and be proud,
The ester from their stalk may mask,
The sweat of our unaffordable people,
Until then let these flowers get migrated,
To camouflage and compete with the rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A very nice write that is scented with the aroma of sweet details. Beautiful flowers in all of it various colors adorn the fields and countryside. Beauty does not come without a price that is paid for by the sweat of brows and calloused hands. Very inspiring.