Flower
Chuan Sha

The flower shows off her color,
Shaking off a fragrance
From a wet green branch,
To the wind,
And then withers without a sound.

The flower gives off a light,
Burning on the tip of a candle
Against the night,
Splendidly,
And then dies without a sound.

The flower looks up to a bird,
Fluttering among the trees in seasonal colors,
In the warmth of the land,
Chirping in the glory,
And then rests covered by leaves without a sound.