Withered flower bloom
Death cannot partake of life
You are my mirror
Why must I see
That beauty can not endure
forgotten in the snow
In silence I feel
The loss
Your scent and warmth
slip away
Fast into the ground
Muted, I watch in helpless protest
They are in waiting
Masses gathered for your bones
They pick at your velvety flesh like vultures
And strip you of your grace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a poignant metaphorical write...takes you beyond the mortal veneer of existence!