The power of flowers
Flower, you’ve got the power,
Soon dead, bare born,
You’ve got the power to give my nose a flavour.
And this flavour, oh flower, lightly touches my thoughts.
Inner garden, outer garden,
Garden of my loves.
Flower, you’ve got the power to sneak in.
Your language is a colour,
Your language is an odour,
Your language is a touch.
You’ve got the power to hush me,
One day, flower, you will be my cemetery.
Then through you, will flourish my posthumous farewell,
For ever, the soul of a man that one may smell.