Butterflies
Are not to be captured
In a net or in a poem.
Hovering in the air
Or in the paths of memory,
They dream
To be watched
To be loved
Only from afar.
(To: Corina Genunea Iordache, Romania)
(Chicago, USA,18 March 1994)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is nothing more fragile and beautiful than a butterfly. And yet, somehow, it survives. Exquisite, Muhammad. Warm regards, Sandra