Blue flower, that rise on the plain,
you were overloaded by beads,
silver corola with azure mantle, in the morning
when I pick you up.
You have opened in flower pot
when I put you,
your dew has streamed on my cheek
when I fill with your aroma.
I said: ' I should bring you back on the plain'.
I wanted to keep you
between the leaves of books
but you have drooped in my hand
and in my thought of farewell.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem