Have tree struck your consciousness?
The shade it cast to keep you cool
With solemn vow of breeze freshness,
And fragrance of flowers you’ve smelled all.
Have still the fruit it hardly bears
Which you have greedily harvested
With your bill I now see rare
Worthy, as you lay in your bed?
Glad I am that upon my caress,
Your shiny wings have made them impress.
So they catch you and put in their cage
And you proudly made no ravage.
Moments like rain dropping and just drop.
Seasons passing says whoosh to the crop.
Whistling arrows as year was realized,
As time I wait had never been wise.
Sad I am that upon their caress,
My fallen leaves have made no impress.
When they free you and you take your way,
You fly to them away from me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem