Never lived weeds,
Whose perfume-sparing flowers
Pardoned the mistakes of clay.
Always grew roots
Where drought-bearing blooms
Were hardened through waterless days.
Continued the sprouts;
The wanted, the willing,
Safe-haven a garden gave.
But sweetest, the quest
Of the beautiful growing-
Together, the pliant and brave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem