Every year the snowdrop comes.
Only one,
beside the tree
that stands close by my window.
By this I know that spring is here.

Along the river, far away,
I’ve seen them grow in swathes and banks.
They stand in crowds,
in shivering ranks beside the waters margins.

I don’t walk there anymore
but I do remember,
when I see the single flower
that stands beneath my window.

© A.Chakir 2023