Early on an April day
In the land of morning calm
Azaleas bloom pink
At sunrise with a bright salaam They bloom alone
Around a quiet place
Where men, animals and insects
make little havoc of rat-race Azaleas are no Cosmos flower
Standing by the roadside
Flirting, giggling and cheek-rubbing
Against passersby, so dignified
They only bloom pink
Like maidens' heart, so purified
Breathing free fresh air
In the morning glow, misty-eyed
They drift upon the river
Getting neither wet nor dried Azaleas refuse to be tainted
By evening glow on the west-side
Mellowing into a pink shade
Beneath the sun at eventide