a painters garden
is a lawn of poems
speaking to the flowers
is the painters voice.
if you abandon all pleasures,
and life be hell,
walk in the garden,
where life dwells.
a memory of wild, and
fresh flowers bloom
in a moment of time
they see their doom
yet, never surrender
their pride to face
a new life again gives
a new taste!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This garden exists within you and you need to be congratulated for posessing such a treasure. :) A beautiful write, well needed in times so precarious, downward dragging and strange. Like your unfading optimism!