Today I saw a brilliant red flower
Crushed under the wheels of a car.
It lay afterward, sprawled on the road,
Its floral entrails hideously exposed.
It lay, crushed, rended, torn, dead
And the guilty whizzed ahead without a care.
No pall of gloom was cast around,
No screams of pain were heard.
No audible whimpers sounded then.
I bent down and picked it up.
I cradled it in my fingers.
I saw a tear, a dewy tear shed for it,
Which lay like a drop of pearl on a
Crimson petal, throned aloft,
Crying in anguish for the death of art,
For the savage destruction of beauty.
When art and beauty die the world is deprived of a culture.. I too shed tears for the mangled flower in your poem.. Let there be more flowers blooming.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The crushing wheels whizzed past, unmindful of the damage done. The silent pain died down without even a whimper! This often happens in the case of humans! Cruel are the ways of the world and it is insensitive to others' pain! A remarkable write and a10 for its disciplined diction!