How hard it is to forget the blossoming trees with their sparrows and all..
I felt like the garden was gone and in its place grew a palace of some kind,
a beauty of a realm with glass and metal and wood.
Its challenging eye piercing through, as if to say 'Dare me, would you? ''
Why cannot we live through the prettiness of dainty flowers or the wild of the natural?
Why can't we live with our people, respecting the poor and making them a noble rich?
Tis the weather my friend, it is only the weather(and a breather of change)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
change happens and not always better