Insane Poem by Mohammad Younus

He plucks a flower,
Tramples under foot,
Buries into the soil,
And then,
Waits for the nightingale,
To sing the happy notes,
He casts grains in cupped hand,
But the angry broken bird,
Doesn't care a hoot,
And flies away,
He tells his ardent lovers,
I shall return, surely I shall come,
When the spring returns,
Flowers bloom,
Send out the fragrance,
But insane pluckers,
Must be in eternal quarantine

Mykoul