Look at the beautiful rose,
look at the pestle weed,
think about the look it has,
and if you will stay or leave,
Should you pull it from its home,
and save that flawless flower,
let the ruthless rot roam,
but beauty last an hour,
Should you leave it there to breathe,
it has its own life time stance,
or keep it for its own charm,
cause everything deserves a chance,
Life is already a tough, long road,
with many back ways hidden,
letting the water slowly carrode,
but to fight, is it forbidden?
The flower may flourish and grow,
but the person’s hand will tower,
the weed may die in the shadow of the rose,
because beauty last an hour.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem