As lovely rose will flood in red all flush,
Its essence rules and aroma endures.
Ah, quiet night to rustle crimson's blush,
A hand to grasp yet softly hold demure.
To search in valley rich with reddened tides,
For one to keep yet free within your hold.
By love's entrapment thorns do pierce your hide,
And love's resentment tears for love now cold.
When morning calls and lights upon, all wake,
A hidden loss has shadowed you in spite.
Upon this day a rose no man can make,
A blazing red now paling weak by morn.
As stem does lead to rose now spent and gone,
No willfullness could flower love along...
Dec.2005
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem