A summer garden, exhibiting
Through its artiste, drooped eves
What, post festive, once lady-fair
For a flower one grieves.
Morn-raucous, for bee guest, blown in
Morn-riotous, a-twirl
What possessed, in its crowds of colour
That lively, spanish whirl.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem