Rain drops forever on each rose,
and keeps the scent from fading;
the memories that claim my heart,
as ever, are pervading.
Yet here I stand, alone as then,
and show no sign of healing:
The shadowed bower where I stand,
my somber face concealing.
I hide my secret from the world,
behind this fringe of roses.
Something has blown into my eye,
is all this tear discloses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem