Never do I want to see a tear
Rolling down your rosy cheeks
I only await your arrival here
With open arms and glad beaks
Never do I want my arrow
To prick your delicate heart
I only strive to pick them narrow
And soothe you; cleansing the dirt
Never do I want your petals
To wither or be detained
I only try to bring from my wells
Water and scents long retained
Never have I wanted my days
To own anything that yours doesn't
Then why do you rifle against my ways
Saying that my thistles taunt?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem