Hail the spur that spurned the rush
to bloom midst all the fragrant blossom crush
among the pastel millions of the same
the wee brown stub that played a waiting game
Hail the twig that blossomed far too late
for spring's imprint that it should procreate
took the future into its own hands
though in its nature proved a fruitless stand
Hail the gambler's laugh at the command
to obey, consume or work as they demand
their discomfort with nature's myriad kind
demanding all must to their weakness bind
Hail to those who entertain a doubt
that other springs will bring to end a drought
of decency, when despots fall in shame
as the new exploiters grapple for the reins
Hail the bud that scorned the warming sun
held off until it thought its moment come
in full colour and vigour and scent
to blossom as to seed the others went
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem. Clever use of metaphor.