People are like trees,
as the wind howls we can either;
dig our roots in deeper,
or let the wind throw us as it pleases.
People are like stars,
they point a way for others to follow.
People are like flowers,
some bloom late,
but they are just as beautiful,
as though that bloomed early.
Trees hold strong to their roots,
and sometimes,
that's all people have left.
Stars burn bright,
but sometimes they,
aren't as bright as perceived.
Flowers bloom,
when it's their time,
no one can change that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem, simple but with deeper insights. I like the way it develops and opens out at the end.