Opening on a meadow's garden.
Spreading wings as pedals pardon. Enticing breeze, if you please.
Succulent nectar just to tease. Imploring fragrance to expedite.
A gentle touch to excite. Love bloomed into fullness.
In all its splendid goodness. But to wither and to die.
Or be blessed with passion's sigh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem