From the windows of my bungalow I can see,
Two mountains and a shining sea,
The winds are singing, fishes are jumping and boat’s floating.
Each one a separate world with its own commandments.
At my backyard, the light pass beyond and are gone.
The butterflies feast their cruises on the sea of light.
Rose and Sampaguita flow up on the peak of the waves of light.
The bright is devastated into gold on each cloud,
And it throws gems in cornucopia.
My bungalow really is a house of light:
And at night gleams, unemotional light and bright.
When morning comes,my house color is orange
And became a center of light.
Sun goes up and down, and prepare to rest
While to the north and south additional lighthouse sheens—
Peace to all and bless to you who read this poem.