boredom comes like a wilting flower
and you like to save yourself from seeing
how such a kind of living thing die
so gently facing the sun and letting
the air take its scent and substance.
i look at things differently now. Let the
petals take the form of a fulfillment.
Let the lone leaf grieve for a passing
Though momentarily we know that.
Things come and go, moving to and
from from a scale of one to ten and then
back again to zero. Wisdom. There is
so much wisdom is our silence. And
she says, that is one thing that must
also be respected, like how we take
the melting of a snowflake in our palm.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem