Bumblebees
extracting nectar,
sweet and bitter,
from the center
of rose-colored petals
a flower which isn't a rose
Engorged
thudding against the window
over and over
fixed upon escape
with their reward inside them
into the air behind them
the path to freedom obscure
unaware they are drawn
to an illusion
{This isn't about the bees}
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem