Bountifully thinking on plains of desert gardens,
aridly sitting alone, crying drops of loneliness
under mesquite trees of brambly beauty.
Thorns of adornment jut from every limb, warning
of their desire to be left alone on hot summer
days and evenings of balmy coldness.
Settling into an oasis of lush bereavement on
edges of cacti needles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem