I shook a seed from out your book,
A dried and wrinkled pit;
I placed it in my breakfast nook
And sunned and watered it;
It sprung a plant of leaf and vine
That curled along the glass,
It wrung my heart with curlicues,
It spoke of love bypassed.
How strange that plants
Grow to the light
While love retreats
With sun in sight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem