Bring me some flowers from rain
Those were wasted to the earth
Everything comes within pain
If it has been tried out in worth
Cast in the instills of time
Displaying the reviewing of gales
Coming to growth in its prime
Everything within instance sails
Morning is stirring the blossoms
With every steam and new leaf
Withering roots knots of its sums
Through every hour so brief
The time is a center of motion
That silted below the grass
The stream of the tangling potion
A mirror of time's shattered glass
Pushing the framework of living
Clawing the dreams going by
So much to the framework giving
Just like those thoughts that fly
The silhouettes are in the sun
With pink flowers red from the nape
As the colors wither and run
To make their red brown yellow strap
Daydreaming waiting the shadows
With every curves of backwards still
Morning comes dark in its glows
In every instances and thrill
Like razors edges of the horizon
Outlining the blood red enigmas fire
And moving its pace steady on
To give us new autumn's desire
Yesterday's curvier backwards clutching
Into the deprecate of tides waste
Everything with dark woe touching
From its coming new season's own taste
Enters the lagging of forest's row
And filling the moments with stillness
Now in its memories timeless flow
Where steps become withering chillness
Corridor of the tide's flowing chart
Changing its mood in its observing
Flowing eternally on in the depart
With every withering leaf curving
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem