A flower small on a mossy wall,
In cracks where silence dares to crawl.
The bricks are dark with rain and age,
Yet life defies the weathered cage.
No garden bed, no guiding hand,
Just roots that dream where none would stand.
It drinks from drops the sky lets fall,
A quiet strength within the small.
Its leaves like hearts, its petals bright,
A flame against the fading light.
Though walls may tower, cold and bare,
Still beauty finds its way through care.
So let this bloom remind the soul—
Wherever pain may take its toll,
A little hope, though pressed and thin,
Can crack the stone and rise within.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem