Withered over the heights
standing still is my flower
Wherever the clouds go
quiet she is in the lower
Whether amid the rain or fire
her petals shall face the foes
And to where my heart is left
shall she sheath the tears as it goes
Saddened be not
O above the all
For when the time comes
none shall stay nor do fall
It is for these roots on top
shall thou remain in there
And the grass shall be watching
a queen is crowned in fair
Over the hills shall I be watching
when the comrades spring in spring
And the valley is whitened
or so washed in a greenish wing
For the raise up of thy petals
or the wake up of thy crown
But my beloved shall keep sleeping
until the heart with her is down
With sweetness goes the air
and bitterness arrived afore
And tired is thy thin stem
for standing so long before
Take time to rest O one
of the lonely stand above
And wipe the tears on thy petals
until this life is out of love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem