One hot morning while laarks were singing,
She walked gracefully over to the trees shade.
There she sat, cheeks as white as snow
Loips as red as the darkest red rose.
She was thinking about the dazzling sunset.
She thought about the brilliant moonlight.
She was thinking about a great eagle soaring over the mountains.
And of a graceful white swan swimming in a pond.
There she sat, cheeks white as snow.
lips as red as the darkest red rose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem