Moving.
The flower and its petals
With its bright coloured sky.
How beautiful is it —
When it vanishes nigh?
An ugly valley cause of it
or dashing meadows of green grass —
Or rust of leaves reaching the sun,
Or lonely vales like of a sea?
Akinwale Peace Akindayo
Philip Peace
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem