I opened up a Bible, and there between the pages,
A rose had been secreted, it must have been there ages,
I wondered who had so placed it, displaying still its magenta red,
For remembrance perhaps, or a memento, sweet petal's carefully spread.
I tried to imagine it fresh and new, all that long time ago,
And observing it, quite suddenly, my tears began to flow,
I left it in that Bible, it wasn't damaged in any way,
Knowing someone else would find it, when they felt the need to pray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem