And he loves me not for
The cuckoo has stopped
Its song from the fronds
And soft wind has grown
Wild across the meadows
Sweeping away the flowers
And he loves me not for
Wingless butterflies lay
Cold on dew soaked lawn
And sleepy birds watch in
Silence changing colors of
The clouds in the dark sky
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem