In that cramped corner,
Unkempt, filthy and with decay,
All seasons stand far away.
But you, and only you,
Are always enjoying by yourself
The shade of or only a wisp of
Worldly fragrance, indifferent and withdrawn
The special far scent is from your delicate stamens,
From the deep of your vein,
And from your first gesture from dream
In the early morning
I sit quietly on the reinforced concrete of the building
On the city,
On the mortal world
Just because of your thick sweet breeze,
I aspire to looking into the distant mountains,
And to get close the sight over them:
The clean white sheep,
And the shepherdess with wildness