To the flower
Impaled to the wall
The halcyon heavens
Descend upon you
As you are pinned to the ground,
Girdled and asphyxiated.
When heaven exhausted
Itself in its vicious stifle,
You sprung,
Jackknifed back
To your verve
Together with the other
Luscious gardens.
You are impaled to the wall
As your roots tethered
Themselves to the solitary
Concrete - you breathe wanly
In and out of life,
To and fro this grueling strife.
But worry not,
The Sun still shines
For you in a whole burst
Of vim
Alone you are,
Alone you will be,
Your roots,
Your thorns,
And your petals of fire
Sink within Gaea.
When all the other
Flowers have been used up
By time,
They will whittle away
And fade,
Leaving marred vestiges.
You will still remain intact,
And you will flourish
In your lonesomeness
And when they have all
Gone to the ethereal,
They will soon notice
You there, alone, beautiful
Scarred but still breathing
And they will pick you up,
Foster you,
And rivet you to ebullience.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem