From every flower that I planted in the garden it became a little mistletoe of heaven
Born through poetry, on the way of life, sing
the past for me is a powder of stars,
so many flowers spring up in my bosom of earth
that eternity would be lost among them.
Born of love, there's my heaven
are the flowers sown in the morning with the sun,
the garden of poetry in which I am a "god"
and my lyrics live in obedience.
There flows springs from the pure soul
and the heart bathes in verses of songs,
and when I do not write it again, it means I left
But I will remain in the "verse" of each flower.
poetry by M Horlaci.
