The Wild Chrysanthemum

Rooted in the ground as being common herbs Either respectfully in a cemetery or simply on a roadside To guard the dead ones and to wait for the passers–by Year after year they adhere to their own way And fear not the rainy and the windy days And to blossom their flowers and wait for The shadow that floats over their head off To light up the black soil on the silent road And to decorate times with vitality and hope To remind people that life how to continue