When you look at a rose do you see only a seed, or how red and deep it looks
how it makes your heart think of passions like no other can?
What a rose, giving you that look
a kiss of breath to thoughts that once were bear.
A sent so sweet you can taste it's beauty on the tip of your tongue
lashing out at your ever growing passion.
To see such a beauty breathing it's passions still
as life lurks and leaps within it's casing a heart to bear all.
A rose dipped in rust bleeds from it's thorny veins
leaves nothing but empty thoughts
and in vein you kiss it still
trying to keep what has already been lost.
This rose has died many times over
not even a thousand years can bring back it's passion.
It lays in it's on dust trying to pick up it's ash's
but in vein because nothing remains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem