New morning from the sea- holm

New morning from the sea-holm grants

Golden dews and wine to olive plants.

A teardrop hangs on the leaf of the olive,

Soon may fall down and lose all its love.

Shore birds, frightened by the ocean storms,

Stay here with me, but follow local norms.

Sweet zephyr, just shake those rainy clouds

For the sake of rustic school girls in gowns.

And for the plowman, toiling all day long,

Caught under the hailing, singing his song.

O my sweet Aura, linger in the windy tree,

And behold, there is none in between.

O my green-love, fan my cheek to cheek,

It's my inner urge, but let it not be leaked.

People may accuse me, that with the breezes,

He was making moans in the windy trees.

By Poet Affaq