Never was born a gardener so cried on losing so much of a rose,
that he watered everyday with love, care and affection of a hose
One day, it rained, it stormed so high
Rose was lost in rain water with no sign
Next day when he came, he saw a broken sappling
He sat in agony, pain, fouled his life that he called struggling
Now was the time to leave that garden out
Confused heart couldnt decide, if it was best with or would be bitter without.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem