The bee's
casual acquiescence
of beauty
passing
from flower to flower
while simultaneously pollinating
this, that
and the next blossom
until heavy laden
returning
to the hive
without
so much as
a backward glance
at the garden's beauty
vividly painted
with broad strokes
up and down
the rows of flowers
bees don't live long
and feel compelled
to be busy continuously.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem