I want to be,
the little flower by the road,
the path of simplicity,
without that great desire,
not feeling the sorrow of life.
My bud turning toward the light,
longing for no more than that,
unknowing of what the day may bring.
My petals fold gently
against the night’s chill,
and peacefully waiting for the dawn
to see the everyday light again.
Opening to the frail sun’s embrace,
that carries the last golden glow.
And the melancholy of life
leaves behind the darkness.
Rest now, my weary mind,
surrender my soul,
to a dreamless sleep,
be that humble blossom.
Autumn has come,
and winter’s solitude will follow.
Time to wither unafraid,
for death carries rest and peace.
Átopos