a Life is
a prickly rose
not a red, red apple,
a mix of green and yellow shades,
fuse of
pale and
perfect, fix of ambrosia and
belladonna, oh as
yet beautiful
ever.
The pricks
are symbolic
hardships, red pomes = the fun
and idyllic things in our lives -
Oh! The
Petals
Hugging round the seed are kins and
amigos who shield, love,
and care for us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem