Leaves of last purple magnolia
Fall in soft incessant rain.
Petals’ smell of white-milky gardenia.
From woman’s neckline remain
In the sulky moist air.
Over-ripened bayberries
Drop their darkening red juices.
And Lotus closes her smile in gloam.
June is lurking the flame
That audaciously burned in May.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem