By her heart I was welcomed
and although I have never thanked her
she didn't want to me see lost.
And what would be of flowers
except gifts to dead?
White petals, yellow center;
it's not gift nor flower.
It's daisy, my darling.
That which I'll put in your hair.
And what would be of river
without the ephemerality which it represents?
By his heart I was understood
and although I have gone away
he was willing to answer my request.
And what would be of us
except scared people?
Bloody wall, cracked wall;
it's not modern art nor delayed.
It's rebellion, my friend.
Reason I follow you.
What would be of world
without disorder which it represents?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem