Today I watched as dawn waters flowed,
And the never ending rays of sun were kisses upon a broken rose
It is the fate of a flower that plagues a widow's memory,
As she rocks back and forth in front of a dying tree
The grave inscribed with scornful years collects dust in an empty field,
Dandelions in the wind carrying voices of dead angels
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem