A LITTLE FLOWER
A little flower doesn’t know how beautiful she is
She has no such a concept
A little flower doesn’t even know her own name
Not to mention the meaning
On the side of the road
A little flower never feels lonely
She blooms as if she doesn’t know she will wither
She withers as if she doesn’t know what is wither
She just quietly blooms, blooms
Like a ring that is just the right size
Worn on the knuckle of God
Translated from the Chinese by the author
—from Rattle #77, Fall 2022
Tribute to Translation
__________
Ting Li: “I’ve translated poems written by myself in Chinese to English. I seek to explore the relationships between human beings and nature; to be precise, the interconnections between a soul and the creation. In this poem, I observe and reflect on spring, Bodhisattva, trees, flowers, and a shoe.”
