MORNING SONG

He turns the dew drops into gold
Hence, the sun is an alchemist;
Nature hides the beauties carefully,
In her closed iron fist.



The melted gold that drizzles
From the edges of the cloud
Lo,the morning song hears
Across the sleepless river, aloud.



The cold breeze that leaps merrily
Over the dwells, over the open fields;
And over the tops of the green trees
Dryness ,to the nature , the sun yields.



The snow drops on the grass
Solemnly chewing the sun rays,
The sun light pervades in nature
And it penetrates in all ways.



30.4.1995.

G.MURALI .M.A.