With the chrysalis of life
when lovers wait
for their winged world
happiness does not seem to be a will-o'-the-wisp.
Nature hears the heart's call
and never leaves its craft unfinished.
Eyes are kindled with great expectation,
One
by
one,
all run-down clocks will break their silence,
and
a butterfly will appear
for the withering earth
with treasures of joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem