Lily Bluebell grew-up in the court of a most foolish king.
Her fragrant petals were full of life despite his nagging.
At times she danced in the breeze neath the sun‘s light
Til her fellow plants were spiteful, despite her sad plight.
She worked harder than most to take-in all the glorious rain.
That warlord was callous with his garden, no prize to gain.
She cried to the majestic Son who brought such sweet relief.
He helped her, in that fool’s garden, giving fragrant belief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem