Late Spring Poem by Judith Wright
Late Spring
The moon drained white by day
lifts from the hill
where the old pear-tree fallen in storm
springs up in blossom still.
Women believe in the moon:
this branch I hold
is not more white and still than she
whose flower is ages old,
and so I carry home
flowers from the pear
that makes such obstinate tokens still
for fruit it cannot bear.
Yes no one like barrenness but this truth is also unhidden that somecflowers are meant only to bloom and not to bear fruit. Even then trees bear them without guilt or shame but we humans only know to pick up guilts ans ashame others.
Shut up ya stick nobody likes you 8- -D
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/17/2024 1:17:25 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A successful poetry in beautiful narration is here so loves.