Occasionally heaven shoots meteorites
Some of them fall on gutters and drains
Without knowing among those some are
More precious than diamond and gold
After misjudging it as a worthless piece
Once you threw a most diaphanous seed
On her beck a bird carried it to a distant land
Being germinated, well deep it sent its roots
Well spread are its branches and each shoot’s
Flower turns into from delicate to delicious fruits
Who is left, you or the seed, to repent or regret?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem