glorious leaves say welcome,
napping tiny grass smiling,
striking songs are singing
unknown birds.
a brook comes with ripples
wetting palms,
overcast wimple
of the top up tall trees,
to windward fluttering flowers,
streamer is embracing all of them.
all of them calling to house of god.
Probably overburdened with house-hold chores, you have started now, though not late, writing poems. Good one - Keep it up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The house of God is within one's heart and no need to search it elsewhere.