My love
Is a poem translated  
Meaningless

Between the lines
It germinated
And bloomed
And floundered
In the memory of
The fallen flower


Wounded seriously
Fighting
With the insects
Buried themselves
Between the petals
My poem
Now
Is a morsel of
Crumbled words

Translated by the unknowns
With the pen
Filled with poison
This fallen poem itself
Is my love.