Poor little weed you just want to survive
But, I am sorry to say, “I will not let you thrive”,
Wherever I might see you growing, I will always pull you up
I will end your life, then I will toss you away like a paper cup.
Wherever you try to grow whether in the dirt or under a stone
I will destroy you, and I will make sure that your seeds are not sewn
When you begin to appear between the cracks of the concrete
I must always step on you and smash you with my feet.
I will pluck you away from my yard whenever you are found
And if your roots run deep, I will dig you up from the ground,
I don't know why I hate you, but I know that I do
My father hated you as well, as I remember that, which is true.
Since you are a weed, my father's words I must always heed
I must destroy you all, and also hopefully your seed,
Though sometimes I have imagined and wondered if I had let you live
All the memories and maybe beauty that you were willing to give.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem