The last dew drop on the red rose
flashed for a while, and soon vanished
with the advent of the Sun.
The rose kept silent,
and the thorns didn't object.
"I need some heat! ",
The rose tried a fake smile
"Before I drop at the roots
of my mother plant...
if fortunate at the feet
of the Divine in a shrine.
Tonight or next morning
my mutable life wil wilt!
I am a small phenomenon
before the Sun: the everlasting! "
"Let me feel good and content
the moments I exist! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The life of a rose aptly described. The size of the life does not matter so long we learn to live it fully...100++