Oblivious of the aftermath
I cut a rose this morning
But it too seems to cut
Into my heart this evening.
Holding it against my nose
I write under its influence:
Of an aroma sweet- indefinable
Of a touch fecund- unprecedented.
I’m in love with it.
What else explains
Its aroma getting sweeter
Its touch getting softer.
Its charming redness
Has completely entranced me
And seeks to test my readiness
To be in love again.
Its beauty is transient
Recoiling within itself
And yet very potent
Because memories last.
In its journey I wonder
If it will leave with me its purity
And the wisdom of love
Hidden deep in its petals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem