As the temperature warms
So does the buds that burst forth
From the place that kept them
Away from the bitter passing.
Finding their place along the curves
And filling the contours of the branches
That stood unshaken.
Awaken from a timely purpose
The green gives way to greatness
Gripping the matter that gives focus
Away from the bitter passing.
Slowly they show their faces,
With the songs that filled their places.
Now they are leaving
And it’s like they never existed
As all around are flowers
And individually we celebrate their passing.
Foliage forming, trees no longer talking
Time is passing, and the colours never lasting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem