When flowers lay their heads on the ground,
The Moon smiles to comfort their pain,
And the rain falls to clear their hearts
Of the madness of the world.
They struggle for the next breath,
Tilted by burdens and despair,
They seem to have forgotten their nectar
Is forever sweet, forever present.
Nothing is bound to time, to form,
These are only floating shadows,
In the river of Spirit,
In the skies of Consciousness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem