It is hard to dream of flowers nowadays
Human flowers that used to paint my nights red
With their colorful display of human sensuality
Their sense of youthful exuberance pronounced
By their unsolicited appearance on the stage of dreams
And their reluctance to wither away with the dying night
The world of my dreams besieged by the rising sun
As I lay there clasping the ghost of my dreams
My dreams melted away by the warmth of the approaching sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem