Against all odds
Against the tyranny of nature's reign;
He grew, a rose in the desert
His crimson petals sleep not,
Nor does the scorching waves make it wane.
Against the expectations of all
Who thought him fraught;
By the overwhelming odds
And nurture's ferocious hordes,
He was destined against, to battle
Unbeknownst to them;
In his pistil lies a spark
That kindled his feeble Will,
To fight the blazing desert sun
When he was but a bud.
A moist within his breast does melt;
The desert fiery heat,
Conquered all,
Nature and Nurture combine,
To sprout the Rose that grew in the Desert,
Whose fragrance the world inspires.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem