I am but a flower who struggles to survive,
through rain, hail, and sleet,
atop a glorious mountain side.
Tho my beauty is great i am of no use.
I cannot keep you warm.
I am not a shelter in witch you can hide.
I am not an instrument you can play.
I am not an animal you can ride.
I am not a child whose smile you seek.
however their are no rules you must abide,
on a night so dark so bleak,
when you are but a flower on a lonely mountain side,
reaching for its peak.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice imageries on life and its comparison to a flower...