The birds pour out their charm and grace,
In songs that fill the morning space.
Soft gleams arise on velvet skies —
Yet, baby, art thou sleeping still?
The wind, in robes of joy it wears,
Dances through the golden airs.
It wakes the blooms with fragrant thrill —
But baby, art thou sleeping still?
Let loose thy curls, let dimples play,
Let laughter light thy lips today.
Thy dawn of dreams knocks at thy sill —
Yet, baby, art thou sleeping still?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This wake up call is sweet as a lullaby! Enjoyed!