“The flower’s perfume
That sweetens the air
Its grace that decorates the atmosphere
Its tender leaves that sway with the breeze
Its stiletto stem
That looks up to the trees
Its petals are glued by those curved lines
In its shape that gives it, its design
Every bud blooms so perfectly
The way it grows so flawlessly.”
This is what we think of flowers.
Imagine what they think of us,
As they gaze upon the trees sliced down.
Yet they do not say
Or complain, of our crime
They are the only to see
Because everyone else just passes by.
what to do i can't stop reading your poems! ! ! ! ! ! how do you write so well... r u a professional poet? ? ? ? reply
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You able to sketch the image very beautifully