Poem by Ibrahim Honjo
VIOLETS
And this night as well the barefoot boys
are selling the first heralds of spring
in flourished alleys of wild chestnut
it smells like spring everywhere
in our city
evenings smell like violets
under blooming chestnuts
pasted flowers
and we are not here
our places back home are covered with weeds
now an Empire of ants
the memory remained there
at the day of birth
to last forever
this spring also the barefoot boys
carry bunches of violets
I am unable to quench
your purple spring thirst
ATUNIS GALAXY POETRY 