It is a flower I remember as a child
So delicate it was to me
Hanging off of their branches
Shaped in a heart for all to see.
Years later when I owned property
In a wooded area upon a hill
There was wild Bleeding Heart
And you know, I have some still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Short and sweet. Very nice. Thanks for sharing.