Each Rose has her thorns.
This plastic, his staples.
It is hurtful to be pricked,
but much worse with the tetanus.
Your tools are kept simple,
to ply and to pry.
Your strokes, fundamental
in front of your retinas.
Its fall, and now time
to repair the Green Houses.
All of the gardens, maintained
as their needs.
Use your time wisely,
complete your tasks daily,
always move forward,
and along the way-
pull some weeds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem