In the hot desert wild
On the high chaparral
The desert blooms a sweet flower
The Whispering Bell
The color of cream
On pendulous stalk
When stirred by the breeze
It seems she can talk
She whispers her secrets
Until she is done
Then she withers away
In the hot desert sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very good poem. I like it, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.