My heart; love isn't it a water flower
Lo, maybe it's a Blue Moon rose.
I'd like to think it's a water lily flower-
where, bees gingerly, dance on their toes.
Purple does it have a gilded golden centre?
Before, it descends into its watery loams.
Truth is it's a thorn bleeding on a dewy arbour
drip drying dressed in russet monochromes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem