The fire is creeping closer.
The nova has arrived.
The sun has blinked some time now;
Too long the world's survived.
For days the radiant lily
Has reached the peak of bloom,
And though she knows the prophecy,
She fears a death at noon.
Such sorrow that the father sun
Could play this cruelest trick,
Betray her with his bounty...
The flame begins to lick.
But can the burning blossom's mind
In folly dare to dream
Of days when she held greens and whites
While basking in a beam?
And can she be released?
This threat, will it expire
Before the moment all falls on
The final funeral pyre?
So ponders now the lily as
All form disintegrates.
And just before the final blink -
No blink. No thought. Too late.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem