Sitting, thinking
Here at the edge of
This world so dark
Hearing the cries
And from this perch
The miserable thorns are seen
Constricting...
Choking...
Unforgiving...
Yet here and there
Flowers, flowers...
Beauty unsurpassed
Growing and flourishing
As the dark vines
Roil round their forms
Sentinels and
Denizens of a world
Which abhors them
Smile even when hope is dead
For the breeze brings with it
The aroma of flowers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem