Oval, red
falling through space,
edges turned
beauty spurned.
Falling again, flashes of red
pure blissful dread.
Cut, tampered, distorted
rolling into a whirling mass
of red.
Lifeless, homeless
almost dry,
the petals of a rose flower
A red rose flower
that in their struggle
for survival were
bruised.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem