Torn between the rose and the lily.
The delicate lily seems sweet,
but the rose is just as fair.
For the rose warrants wear
And for that it is fair,
And beautiful.
The lily is striking by far
uninhibited by year's scars.
Sprung anew, still sweet,
and wet with nature's dew.
The lily is painted with eternity's hand
So vivid and grand,
is the detail of every pedal's strand.
And for the lily's grandeur that striked me,
That scared me,
It compelled me.
That I plucked the old weared rose to be mine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem