A rose – barenaked
Underneath the arrogant Sun: the tangerine specter
Planted, girdled like a child upon the dismal landscape
Waits for the rain, a scant contender.
A necessity upon this tryst of fools
And lackadaisical wanderers waning over flesh,
Bones and confidences.
Unbridled are the meshes but then the skies are avaricious;
Not a single dropp of rain
Assuaged this clamoring rose
Now left desiccated, impoverished with ashen petals.
Her susurrations spell infinite desolation
And her pristine inflorescence: tired, capitulating.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem