Happiness Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova

The summer becomes mature like a moonfaced
The beautiful daysare born.
Putting a fire dress the summer
Would heat up the highest.
Cherry- shy garden girl’s cheeks
Would burn from kisses.
Her love being sipped, the eyes of spring
Would open from jealous suffering.
Drinking water by handfuls from a stream,
From thirst the neck of gardens would rattle
Having yielded its grape fruits to a sparrow,
A hanging grape would suck its finger so,
When a worm crawls into pear’s breath, the wind
Will make its spade touch the ground.
There being not enough room
The heart of the pomegranate
Would break out its skin from happiness.