Breeze
Death blows
Upon withered rosebuds
Αεράκι
Θανάτου φύσημα
σε ροδομπούμπουκα μαραζωμένα
breeze from the dawn lap through the grave kisses the epitaph with rose fragrance
You have vividly depicted the garden of the dead. So cleverly written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
withered rosebuds? I'd say more like roasted, lol. Sorry father Kostas, I can't help feeling so happy when I read your work. I can't stop reading, you have such a great sense of humor. I bet the young people in your church enjoy being around you.