A cluster of Day Lilies glow
like embers beneath the shadow
of a time-worn Box elder tree
that's plainly visible to see
if looking for mundane beauty.
Their golden flowers so briefly
lived poses for a single day;
at days end they wither away.
Their presence always call to mind
that beauty last the briefest time
but I possess a memory
where beauty lives eternally.
Though they will die I'd soon exhume
I'd close my eyes they'd still be bloomed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem