A nameless virgin flower just bloom in the thick jungle.
The hermit sniffs the fragrance and breaks his inner peace.
The flower invites him to her kingdom
And the hermit forgets his chants.
He mutters;
'I practice my way of life since a long time with great principles.
But I feel now that I cannot move any further and I became a weaker.'
'Master! I'll teach you just a simple chant,
Love the flowers before they wither
And do meditation after they perished.' The flower smiled.
* I dedicate this poem to the poetess Sue Ann Simar in gratitude.
Very provocative. No wonder the flower smiled. Warm regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is just beautiful, Nimal. How many religious ascetics search in vain for the bliss that only joyful and generous loving brings about. Your virgin flower is doing your hermit quite a service methinks. I am always surprised at the breadth of your imagination dear friend. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥