you have a right
You have a right to carnations,
the flowers of god.
But be careful:
purple carnations are capricious,
the night delights them.
They are las flores de los muertos.
Anemones, fragile
daughters of the wind,
shrink from human touch.
Scarcely a week has passed
and the peonies are smashed, petals skewed
on wet black soil.
Don't uproot a single bloom:
just see a single violet in the grass
as it is
no more no less.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem