A flower, or the ghost of a flower!
Mist, or the soul of it, felt
In the secret night's mid hour,
Lost on the morning air!
Who shall recover it,--beauty born to melt
As the apparition of blossom brief and shy,
As the cloud in the sky that vanishes, who knows where?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem