Alike a grandpa's pearly white beard,
Delicate, drifts with the slightest breeze.
'Where to? Don't know...'
Yet, swirling, swooping and swooshing,
Twirling, whirling and reeling.
Orbiting mother earth, it dares without fear.
Landing in the brown soil, it bursts into green.
Purest of God's creations,
Bearing life and destiny,
Of a beautiful dandelion soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem