You the flowers (edmond randrianandrasana)

You the flowers
Green bracelet of ground
Which the flute endured upon
The lips of rock envy a mud
And without you
What shall this green field be?
Might be,the grass and bushes have not a bones
Or even my ground shall not have a blood
For I thanks that little seed
Already knows how to prophecy
That deepness of your pain
The single honey almost nothing

And the moon,unlucky or without heart??
For do not even kiss his roots
You the flowers, tomb
Keep all things of his dream
Perhaps you are those pictures filled his books?
O! Seems I hear his promptings
Humor, you,hide his peace

You the flowers
Pretend to be quiet or yet sleeping?
For I pinch, seems bleeding
I prune, painful?
Because my nails is the only stinging
And I say:be still
For the shiniest of his youth

Edmond randrianandrasana

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