Like many, many years going by, the petals of the pink peony bloom.
Loveless years.
Pinkless fears.
I wonder if this flower of love belongs to me.
I wonder if the petals of the pink peony would bloom in—
In my heart.
But a part of me just knows.
'You'll know when you feel it! '
I never have.
I want to.
I watch as others around me get together,
Their hearts flutter inside of their chests like—
Like the many, many petals of the peony when the wind brushes against it.
When hands brush against hands, I find it hard to watch.
I long for it, for a feeling I have never felt.
The peonies whisper, 'I do not belong to you, accept it, '
Not so gently, 'you do not need me, accept it.'
It feels like everyone has a peony,
All but a loveless,
Pinkless,
Peonyless me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem