A blooming rose has drooped, not feeling warming gentle rays, -
It is sad without the smile of sun, - radiant and bright.
The gloomy luminary looks, turning away its clear face,
At the mortal world, for some reason, with the reverse side.
Perhaps it's angry with a rose for friendship with the rainy haze,
Or for any other fact that it sees from starry height.
At times, the sun drops on the ground a black-white moody blaze,
Swiming in the stormy clouds that absorb its shining light...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem