Yesterday, my dearest one,
you who are so dear to Me,
you walked so slowly through the public park
carrying your sorrow with you
and as you walked, you cast a glance
at that red rose whose scent waylaid you on your path,
wondering if its beauty
might somehow lift your sorrow from you.
Walk in the park again today,
you who are so dear to Me,
I shall be waiting in the rose,
waiting in the rose’s beauty
In this cynical day and age, I was positive that you would 'find the rose already plucked and dead, ' or some such line, so I was pleased to find the love still in the rose. Beautifully written.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Michael, simply brilliant. And so elegantly expressed. Now that kind of expression gets me a-thinking!