A spiral of baby yellow petals
Sunflower-like
Dawn-colored
Your middle uncrystallized eye
Knows not of the others.
The others like you.
Do your oblivion they mock?
No. But the sour oblivion
Hides desperately in the lace's pretty picture
Next to yours.
Not tasty.
Not fun or sweet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem