There is this rose,
In a garden beautiful;
And as life goes,
With thorns cruel.
Among the blossoms,
From earth seeds;
As the life possums,
And the roots concedes.
Like dragonflies above the trees,
In knowledge and abilities;
Finding out each contiguities,
In colored ways and poetries.
The blue of world beyond,
When clouds drift away;
Not to this earth bond,
Each night or new day.
With profound sky around,
So deep in its applique;
The horizon line is found,
Inside all this quixote.
Like dragonflies above the trees,
In knowledge and abilities;
Finding out each contiguities,
In colored ways and poetries.
Our world is so beautiful,
Daydreams fading into sun;
Their ways quite ignitible,
To break out of our ration.
Our spirt flies away high,
To get to the gleaming stars;
Let your imaginations try,
Radio waves distance pulsars.
Like dragonflies above the trees,
In knowledge and abilities;
Finding out each contiguities,
In colored ways and poetries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
mr quinn you a great writer.