Warm morning in May:
It is quiet, still and dry.
There is not even
A breath of wind, as we stroll
Slowly along these
Leafy lanes. Footsteps are now
Covered in white dust.
O everything seems to be
Sleeping, amidst this
Deep blue and this dream-like green:
Including the birds,
Bushes, plants, flowers and trees!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem