Forget the flowers in the garden
That are idle and we are in fuss,
Like a merriment has a pardon,
To twice be a parade to resurface.
Gotten by any man is funny lady,
Flowers and tulips especially be mad,
To understand this requires candy,
Madly to believe I was bad.
Hostels of heaven are spirits,
But I am a flower too hurt.
I am forced to conquer budgets,
Too mysterious for the nonexpert.
Heaven plays good games of forgetting,
As if, as if I came out to sea,
And the bliss was too captivating,
Too much for me.
Paradise holds the key,
It is just too business
According to the godly,
That they demand adeptness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem