One's mind must read mid-February
to let go of the Colorado Spruce
the crunch of a collected snowfall
distant glitter
One must be dreaming blue
porclain buckets filled
with gerber and roses
in golden vases
Sweet lipstick cherries
pucker
at pitchers of lemon water
with citrus cut round circles
so one could imagine it fully
the season from front to finish
and happiness will flutter
in the summer air
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem