A gentle Rose Bush
Resides under my window.
The wind pushes through
Like a lover brushing
Stray strands back.
The roses turn like
Shy virgins, whispering
Soft sighs, their hearts
Beat against my window.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If 'writing is the journey' then you have arrived, your first verse left me enraptured. Thanks.