In the green world of tree, jointly we lived.
Smiled together and danced with the wind.
But the tree treats us, just like your hair.
He sheds us away, in autumns, every year.
We love him and prepare food for existence.
In return want to play in his womb, constant.
But our life ends as the season autumn arrives.
We are compelled to fall and left there to dry.
On tree we played with wind; fallen, it with us.
Love to live unite in heaps, but wind scatters.
Wind makes drawings, using as brush and paint.
As it craves, twirling together we take the shapes.
We live to be food of you and of those animals,
Die to feed the worms and the small creatures.
In the womb of earth, yet we love to slumber;
and wish to dissolve in, with our great mother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem