The bud has not yet opened.
It is waiting for the sunlight.
The flower is stretching its hand to bloom,
But the bud is yet unripened.
The bud has not yet opened,
Once it is fully ready.
The boy who had planted the seed,
Takes care of it,
Plays with it,
And keenly and whole heartedly waits for the day,
When the bud shall open,
The flower like the morning sun,
Slowly-slowly shall open up.