Across dark thresholds sleep my dormant dreams,
Inspired by aspects seen while I'm awake,
Epitome of sweetness, my love seems,
That nectar bees seek earnestly to take;
A flower bloomed from primal buds of May,
And nurtured in the sun, glazed by the light,
Which even stars at night cannot display,
I pity blooms which do not glow as bright;
But comes a time when flowers cease to be,
To be more than pleasures to the eyes,
When beauty has become mere memory,
When purpose was fulfilled with its demise;
.....When in dark thresholds lie the sleeping seeds
.....Formed in the fruits, when bloom to fruit proceeds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem