What makes me happy 1

                              On the veranda that is old and small
                    three brothers of flowerpots huddle around
                    Last winter, in the piercing cold
                    they were shivering almost to death

                    B-ut
                    without my knowledge
                    they are showing the faces again,
                    chubby and bright yellow-green

                   " Excellent, you did a good job!
                     You made it!"
                   I pat them proudly on their faces
                   They smile back with mild fragrance

                  This morning, soooooooooo happy!
                              

                         Like running River
                                                                      (poem)

                    The reflection of mine in a mirror
                    seen all the time
                    So it's nothing new and nothing strange to me
                    But it suddenly comes to me like something new

                    I've never ever urged time
                    go such fast, yet it does
                    World and everything in it is being created
                    over and over
                    According to it,
                    I, part of the world, keep changing
                    the robes of time with no stopping

                    My dear daughter,
                    she is now stepping into a teenager
                    In whom
                    I see myself of far off days,
                    filled with bright sunshine in the heart,
                    bloomed the flowers of laughter on the face then

                    The years stole by
                    like running river, pushing me to this very point
                    Coming after me, and walking in the spring time
                    when peach blossoms is blooming
                    my child is

                    In she
                    I am still growing the dream
                    that I dreamed when I was young,
                    not yet achieved
                          

POEM- One Day in May

                       One Day in May
                                             (poem)

               Even in mid-May, monsoon rains
               Such as a pole it rains ceaselessly,
               and the cities are sinking deep
                into the tent of dense mist

               From above the heaven of the heavens
               roaring thunders run sliding
               sharp lightning dances to it
               Before a gust of playing of Mother Nature,
               the earth polluted by the greedy
                is going through purification ritual

               Like a tall dignified meta sequoia tree,
               nature returns to its own place,
               to its own right seat

               and in the grace and the power of it
               our lives on earth going on and on...