Beautiful flowers, called 'birds of paradise', swaying and
bobbing about to nature's rhythms, bright orange, gathered
together in loosely fitting foliage.
Looking like evening gowns flowing in the afternoon wind,
feet firmly planted beneath the warm earth, tresses hanging
delicately above the dirt.
Exquisite beauty of mother nature's purpose here on earth,
watching as I write, praising and honoring them right here
in a little poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Who else would sing the glory, The beauty of a flower, Only poets have that power. Beautiful and powerfully work, full of poetic sensitivity. Loved it!