If I was grass
the soft and illusive carpet of hope
Though, you wouldn't like to grow
as my blade
If I woke up as the sky
the pure and velvety home of hope
Though, you wouldn't like to take a shape
of my cloud
If I rained over you
the delicate pink-red blooms from the heart
Though, you wouldn't like to fruit
my fall
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful poem, beautifully penned. Thanks for sharing.10 points.