Like a lady changes dresses
The pipal sheds her neon leaves;
With the help of winds caresses,
she dons a gown with russet sleeves.
Then, as an early summer drifts,
to lazy dawns and sultry noons,
She changes into various shifts,
beneath the season's gleaming moons.
From deep, dark olive to palest jade,
Shetries on every shade of green;
And as the old begins to fade,
She'll provide a change of scene.
And yet at times, she'll pout, quite bare,
"I've not a single thing to wear! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good poem on renewal of peepal.