I see a young girl
with auburn hair
and ink blue eyes
picking petals from a yellow flower
as if she’s counting them
one by one
and her lips form
the words
you love me,
you love me not.
Her face is lovely
and sweet
and she’s tanned
by the summer
and slender like a reed
and there are no shoes
on her feet.
She smiles at me
and puts red rose blossoms
in a big heavy book
and closes it tenderly
and press down on it
and I wonder to whom
she is going to send
a forget me not
as if any young lad
would be able to forget her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love the poets observation this poem reveals. Most people would not give this incident a second glance yet it impacted on you so signifiently that you wrote a poem about it 10