The leaves on the ground lay motionless,
Belieing their secret intent beneath
The tree canopy.
They are a whole neighborhood of
Descended voices
A brotherhood of realized contentment
Their words have been spoken.
In communion with one another,
They lay quietly.
The tree that towers above
Is drunk with the knowledge
It may reach the sky someday.
The breeze that blows through
Sets into motion the flickering rustle
Of a million small leaves.
Laughing at the sky,
They flaunt themselves shamelessly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The tree that towers above Is drunk with the knowledge It may reach the sky someday. i realize the height of your feelings.