Pile white snowflakes fall
Of those storm clouds.
The birds flew toward the sky.
Quiet, their love song finished.
Let them sing far away from us;
Forgetfulness of rigor and rain!
Birds departed to the house
Return in the spring sunshine.
What is scary to severe environmental,
How it all empty and dreary,
When you hear over the field
Winged our singers!
Pal dear, be calm:
Cold winters rough hand
Drove them - but the house
They will return in the spring sunshine.
And we, the land wingless birds
They greet the eyes of
And, windstorms again foreseeing
Let 's north-threatening silence.
The fate of an angry and fierce
Often, like a man throwing a toy.
I envy birds: the house
They will return in the spring sunshine.
They dish over the mountains and the clones
They dish a few bluish sky
And again, like last year, drops
The old oak warriors.
And delight young and old
Songs, both times on already heard.
Birds departed to the house
Return in the spring sunshine!
Birds, they are prophets, brings us tales of countries from distant, every spring and autumn, and so on from year to year.Ananda(Phueng)2004
Of those storm clouds.
The birds flew toward the sky.
Quiet, their love song finished.
Let them sing far away from us;
Forgetfulness of rigor and rain!
Birds departed to the house
Return in the spring sunshine.
What is scary to severe environmental,
How it all empty and dreary,
When you hear over the field
Winged our singers!
Pal dear, be calm:
Cold winters rough hand
Drove them - but the house
They will return in the spring sunshine.
And we, the land wingless birds
They greet the eyes of
And, windstorms again foreseeing
Let 's north-threatening silence.
The fate of an angry and fierce
Often, like a man throwing a toy.
I envy birds: the house
They will return in the spring sunshine.
They dish over the mountains and the clones
They dish a few bluish sky
And again, like last year, drops
The old oak warriors.
And delight young and old
Songs, both times on already heard.
Birds departed to the house
Return in the spring sunshine!
Birds, they are prophets, brings us tales of countries from distant, every spring and autumn, and so on from year to year.Ananda(Phueng)2004