My friend grows ragwort in her garden,
She makes no secret of it.
And buttercups;
And dandelion;
And daisies in a chain.
She swears the butterfly and bumbling bee visit
More often, and in spring when it rains,
The drenched colours of the earth
Will settle on her palette
As she quickly paints hymnals cleansed of stain.
And all nature madly
Blooms, withers and blooms again,
Before the tame gardener
Has yet turned shovel
To compose the compost
And order the perennials align
Their season to his domestic bliss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem