Petals fall to the ground
so red, against stark black.
The wind the only sound
blowing through the trees.
To flower for one day only
to live and then to die
never to be lonely
red faces turned to the sky.
Turning to the crimson fields
such a wonderous sight
makes you feel so happy
though they'll be gone before this night
One red poppy.
8/88
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem