Of Dry Petals
Dry Petals may seem prosaic
Like blank verses of the evening
Tuned with symphonies of silver moon and stars around
Promise a lyric so near so soon-
Of chirping, Of Dew drowned dawn;
Dry petals deceives sight more in bright,
Petals, not dead, all that need is a butterfly flap
For a spin of air or monsoon shower to fall on the ground
To transcend the fall
To influence towards rise.
Surely, a butterfly, flaps wings behind the clouds
Towards all those petals; on the wall hung alone
Painted dry petals all together
Silent, alone, not dead to mourn;
The blue butterfly, flies beneath blue horizon-
With letters of new moon for old cloud’s and crew;
Believe in hopes, hopes are true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem