A bloomed flower
Prays with all its might
For the sun and moisture
To move back
The hands of time
For its petals to retract
For it to turn back
To an innocent seed
Fragments from
The broken glass bottle
Where the toy ship
Once loitered in frolic
Has punctured the
Dominant floral face
The brush of the wind
And its comforting absence
Was about to name it,
But it didn’t
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem