Flowers blossoming all throughout life, some on their
own, being wildflowers only, others are tended by we
human beings.
Loving their colors and aromas as they grow them in
backyard gardens, wanting to forever enjoy all their
good qualities that stand the test of time.
Wind blowing on nature's channel, singing below our
ability to hear the rhythms and tonal sounds being
sung invisibly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem