Violets shelter amongst the roots,
dry leaves for a blanket,
a dash of purple and green amongst the brown.
Quiet and unassuming,
as if hiding from the bustle
of town and people.
Perfuming the air with simple pleasure.
When my mind flies rapidly about,
discarding thought after thought,
until it tires me out,
I walk again along that lane,
and see the violet, calm and quiet.
Like a soothing balm,
or soft fingers across my brow,
cares flee and a snapshot remains-
the image of a violet flower,
no mental pains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem