Like a rose
Upon a broken bough
Struggling just to live;
So are the lives
Of some I've known
Who knew just how the give.
Oh, what a little love can do,
For e'vn the rose somehow,
Would grow thereon,
New types of wood;
And mend each broken bough! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A little pocket allegory between a broken rose and suffering people. The lines are somewhat staggered, but no matter. Some quality endrhymes thrown in for good measure make for a PH jewel. This line is a tad ambiguous and needs attention. Otherwise nicely written. Who knew just how the give.