I am never sate
so I create.
Be not too of an oblate!
There's enough on your plate.
If only this poem would earn some pence;
perhaps then my life would make sense?
Clouds of pink and white beauty captivate.
All too soon Bauhinia beauty fades.
But it's still there; it's not too late.
I still have time to appreciate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem