My eyes reflect
their charcoal flora.
They metamorphose
into flowers of evil
portraying sultry
habanera eyes.
They made Beaudelaire
dance with Verlaine
blew Van Gogh's mind
and bludgeoned Carmen.
As for me
there's no problem,
I'm just a flower
on the wallpaper and
I need no watering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem