In a place I will not name
a hotel with a small front garden
had planted rocks that sat like sages
lost in meditation at the centre of flowers
that danced like fairies sent by heaven
to awaken their common senses
now lost to lust.
This was a very wrong perception
of reality from which I am now torn.
Flowers are friends to all:
hard hearts and rocks and thorns.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem