Out of dirt there grows A pretty flower, Out of hard rocks There grow green plants, Out of pretty looks There comes a pretty love, Out of a passing cloud Some pretty rains come, Out of pains There might be a pretty hope, Out of a forgotten seed There might be a lot of fruit, Out of a book There is a pretty knowledge, and Out of many things There might be a lot of pretty things.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem