True, they do not spin,
but toil they do.
It takes a lot of energy
to rupture the seed’s strait-jacket,
and then to drill upwards
through soil and rocks
with the flimsiest tools
to reach the sun
and photosenthesis.
Then they must
develop sturdy stems
to support them
and leaves to store
water and nourishment,
the perfect pump.
Then there’s the matter of sex.
It takes a lot of effort to be a flower,
to look alluring
for some stray bee or butterfly
even in the pouring rain;
to put up sweet nectar preserves
every day:
No, even the meadow flowers
must work and worry;
they are not exempt.
But Solomon and all his glory
could never preempt
the product of their toil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sonny! wonderful poem, perfect depiction; keep em coming! ! (a 10) ! !