The shining sun was buttery on the green clover
After the soft rain shower's sacred hymn was over.
From its celestial high hearth a bird sang a song.
My garden's soft blossoms are rosily growing strong.
Woodland red ripe strawberries I now can't wait to pluck.
It was a sparkling day for pools of puddles and ducks!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem