A spot tender on a floor, gentle imprints of a flower upright to the flow,
dimensions stellar and invisible to a busy eye,
solitary and resplendent in sketches of gray,
trapped in excitement of a buddha meditation,
the surface lingered on an earthly convention,
hovering as though possessed of galactic gravitation,
I know you will dismiss it as pure imagination!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem