On the hills of the park, the redly peach
Blossoms bloom and droop on the bough.
Sensing the arrival of spring, and recognize
First, birds gather to fly on the bough.
Singing to each other, pecking the petals,
Intoxicated deeply by the fragrance on the trees.
Even as the sun sets, they forget
Their nests, and lost in the embrace of the breeze.
(Apr.,22nd,2024, Kinsley Lee)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem