Where leaves abound, much fruit is rarely found,
When words are more, finding much sense is hard,
As when nuggets are dug up from the ground,
Dross makes mountains, while gold yields but a shard;
We laud marksmen, when hitting with less shots,
Deftness as gauged in thrift of bullets spared,
So too, with speech of few words saying lots,
Whereby hearing, we know how well it fared;
Do nicer things, with less, make beauty be?
Like comely girl with shortened speech and dress?
But one is mute when there's nothing to say,
The way silence of sages would impress;
.......Nudity could be a fashion statement
.......Of those who want to say: 'Please No Comment.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem