Meanwhile the rose bud is beginning to open
showing up the beautiful shades of porcelain
the sunrise also now, is appearing splendid,
there and here, again, throw the enormous sky.
Each cloud seems to follow something up very high,
offering like a cloak in its cottony brightness,
the breeze touching the pure, the delicate blossom
while the fragile butterfly sips its nectar very anxious,
as a kiss given so, through its fluttery fly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem