the wind one brilliant day called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine
in return for the odor of my jasmine
id like all the odor of your roses
i have no roses all the flowers
in my garden are dead
well then ill take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain
the wind left and i wept and i said to myself
what have you done with the garden that was entrusted