Once upon a time,
there is a crimson rose,
Fallen and broken, almost torn apart,
Near the street of the town,
Lay around from dawn to dawn..
..
A man see but do nothing for her
He only said; 'By all of the beauty, she is just a broken flower! '
..
Someday..
A passer-by..
With a gloomy smile and worn out boots..
He notice the beauty of a fallen rose..
Take it home, put beside his pillow..
..
When he wake up, he sigh and smile..
Stare at the beauty..
..
The rose, withered but her petal always crimson red..
..
They both know, love is not always about care,
Love is mystery..
Only be seen by them who personally bound to..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem