This beautiful rose
Has come to fade
With every longing
Stride that was made
It fell from the heaven
In which it was born
Now living a life
To which it will morn
Bleeding is this rose
That lived out its lie
Striking just a pose
In order to get by
Sticking with the crowed
Longing to be free
But those dreams cannot come true
As it wont come to see
Its heart is cold and black
Fading out its dye
For the love that it shall lack
And the tears it shall cry
Burned is the beauty
That once ran threw its veins
Now it pours down
Threw the spirit that it tames
Dead is this love
That heaven once had made
When push came to shove
Its spirit could only fade
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem