The delicate evening flowers
Have opened out their hearts
To exchange their fragrance
With musical notes of the birds.
The sonata of the stream
Is tinkling against the rocks,
Which are still remembering
The whispers of the reeds.
Be careful, my heart, lest your beats
Startle this entranced silence;
Let the doves of your breaths perch quietly
Upon the branches of darkness.
Then let those branches embrace you
To distill your unease,
And turn it into sap
For these patient trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem