I want live for the drowsy bird
That looks at me like an old lover
When the first ray of the sun slips
Into my room through the curtains
I want to live for the caring wind
That lifts tuft my of hair as I come
Out to sit on the verandah with a
Cup of tea and watch the meetings
And partings of clouds over trees
I want to live for the fresh buds
Trying to open up to the sound
Of bees washed with varied hues
And nodding to the calls of birds
I want to live for all those souls
Who smile at me when they go
To the fields with oxen, ploughs
And carts lifting dusts in streets
And humming morning prayers
I want to live
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem