You'll never believe it
But I'll tell and anyway
That my favourite flower
Is the nettle.
It strives to survive
And struggles back
Even after it is dug out.
It feeds the butterflies
And the insects
Who in turn feed the birds
And tries to keep them safe
Using its prickly power.
In the garden I give it space
To thrive and to grow
Against my shed, below the arch
With snails and slugs its friends.
The beautiful white
Of its flower
Is so breathtaking
It stands up tall
Against them all
My favourite fantastic flower.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem