The deer ate my tulip tops
Sheared them off, their petals cropped;
The blazing reds, the yellow creams,
Have disappeared as in a dream;
I will not hunt down doe and fawn
Catch them as they cross the lawn,
In foggy mist take their life,
Shoot them, skin them with a knife;
I’ve seen the petals through my screens,
At first light bobbing in sunbeams;
The beauty that I chanced upon
Was sufficient in the dawn;
It seared a memory in my brain,
Its’ beauty shall always remain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem