Look at that rose, what a bright red flower!
Sweet to smell and to the eyes a wonder
But concealed underneath are sharp thorns
Dare to touch them- they greet you with scorn
The world expects you to be a saint
When you fail, your name’s inscribed with black paint
When you do good, all the world goes dumb
But when you stumble, tongues explode like bombs
Why are good deeds short-lived in the mind
but in hearts mistakes forever bind?
It’s all right to caution one when he’s off track
But don’t forget also to pat him on the back
Everyone’s in a haste to give their verdict
Imperfections- that’s what makes humans perfect So be slow to ring criticism’s bells, It’s a world of humans, not of angels
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem