Wither not, O beautiful rose
The winds of sorrow shall pass away soon
Wither not, O beautiful rose
The desert rains shall water your roots
The black rose in a white man's world
Her petals crushed beneath his feet
Her cries drowned in his laughter
Her beauty hidden under his pale cloak
Her sorrow emanates a fragrance
Carried by the wind and across the oceans
A fragrance that awakens the depraved
And the suppressed in the world
One day the black rose shall arise
With fire in her eyes
And then the white man shall realize
Darkness is nowhere but in his mind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem