Amber husk 
fluted with gold, 
fruit on the sand 
marked with a rich grain, 
treasure 
spilled near the shrub-pines 
to bleach on the boulders: 
your stalk has caught root 
among wet pebbles 
and drift flung by the sea 
and grated shells 
and split conch-shells. 
Beautiful, wide-spread, 
fire upon leaf, 
what meadow yields 
so fragrant a leaf 
as your bright leaf?                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She handles her topics deftly and courteously