In May Rain
Stood, watched flowers
Dead, fallen on bushes,
And the tree branches…
Carcasses on canvas
Were painted in colors.
Deeply wished one casket,
To look, be, exact same.
Dreamed that I was dead,
My petals carpeted
The face of a pavement.
On me walked the angels,
Guests from the heavens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem