And if the frost makes the flower
Then it blooms unbidden
And spills out
All terrible colour
Blossomed from my mouth
Something stirs with its birth
Or stunted dormancy
And she said it right.
Its stirring draws a knell
'Somebodys done for'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
like an omen. the flower plays an omen. scholarly use of `knell.' definitely inspiring work, Lauren. i rather like (if i could make a change) : And if the frost makes the flower / Then it blooms forbidden. best care, sjg