A field of wilting flowers
beseeching the clouds
to spare a dropp of water.
The cruel skies ignore the pleas
and continue on their journey
until they are captured
in a bottle
and forced to release
their captive butterflies
to the roses
uncorrupted by the crimson eagles
perched upon a balcony
drenched with the blood
of seven white seals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem