out there
in the driest part of the desert
a flower still thrives
thin leaves
and tiny petals
stalks like wires
and roots
penetrating the softness
of the sands
out there
it is preaching of hope
resiliency
some flowers are scarlet
deep blue
but nowhere can you find
black
black is the color of death
red is the color of
the wounded sands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem