From a violet
As I was passing
I received a call
A sound
A sigh
To make her will
The ageing violet
Spoke sad:
‘Alone am I
Without a family
And my spine to
The earth it bends
In aged suffering'
‘What can you bequeath
Old violet? '
I bequeath beauty
I bequeath myself
Or rather what remains
Even that little
Be enough
Though
Not money, not power
Yet beauty I bequeath
Unto the Earth
That gave it me:
Thus too my conscience
Quiet I leave'
Spoke not more
The rambling violet
And bent its head
And moved not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This a tender poem and you sustain the aura of sweet melancholy throughout. The violet has lived a blameless life and part of its reward is a fearless death. It only remains for the violet to spread one last display of its beauty before dying. And this is clearly symbolic of a human being who has lived a blameless life and will reap the reward after judgment blesses him/her. I thought of my late father as I read this poem who lived a blameless life.