the mums are blooming late
this year
yet they bloom
nevertheless
today I see a friend
from that dark coming-of-age
in a magazine
there was something wrong with us-
flowers whose petals
were torn, stained
askew
our yellow and brown skins
now light up the world
our feet
out of the shadows
into the limelight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem