Found a box in the backyard crimson in color, 
Was glistening shiny with an unknown odor, 
Around it hovered myriad butterflies, 
Somehow brought memories of forgotten ties, 
Should I open and kill my curiosity? 
Or what if it was a harbinger of adversity?                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    