Wanting warmth from a wondrous source,
In blind pursuit to true thirst quell,
A flower bowed and took a bold course,
Reaching too far it missed and fell.
Is the allure of the brilliant source,
Really to blame for gifts set in stone?
Flowers led by a higher force,
Should ponder on the light it shone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem