Once in while a little game we will play,
What is the fragrance of the day.
My day stinks says the pessimist
it is always that way.
Smell the roses say the optimist,
God listens when we pray.
Sometimes we follow our nose,
into places we choose.
We are the ones who decide,
to win or to lose.
Perhaps the odor is not in the air,
but instead.
Is just a little matter inside of
our head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem