Poor but rich in flowers
I lay amongst those stems.
In their burning gems
I hear my singing, child.
singing to the croaking, frogs
sweet words of
jangled, thought!
And time—I have to laze.
And read a poem,
That leaves me dazed.
In humble awe!
I'm poor, but rich in flowers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem