I found a bee upon the grass
Who faced his final hour
And cupped him gently in my hand
Then set him on a flower.
A sweet white rose that nestle him
In petals, cotton soft,
Whose fragrance, as he breathed is last,
Bore his soul aloft.
And though his tiny body lies
Within the roses' breast,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem