I am watching a tiny daisy in the grass
In twenty minutes it has not moved one inch
It has not lowered the drawbridge of the day
So that light may canter over its flag of gold
In twenty minutes
Seven dappled shadows have blown their patterns
Over its sundial face
I think it has grown tired of rehearsing for Winter
I think perhaps it is plotting to tear
The calendar of the leaves
Into a thousand petals raging across the grass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem