beneath flowering tree
soft green grass i sit
tinkering with my car
trying to find grinding
sound that eluded me
for quite sometime
beautiful butterfly
flapping her wings
just above where i am
maybe whispering some
but my mind too busy
looking to listen a few
one came landed on my cap
yellow with dotted black
eyes; shiny black pearls
with antennae that curls
i stop, watch, i adore
i look up; there are more
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem