Any sentient being knows
The birth and rebirth of a rose –
Or, really, any other flower;
All unfold in a seeming hour,
Then wither! And as the petals fall,
Killing what is dearest of all
(In flowers) – I remember then
In an hour, it will bloom again.
No, I mourn not for a rose,
But for they – lacking the repose
Of knowing of a safer soul –
Who let their minds’ tenets lull,
Or never treasured any at all!
I envy not what miseries befall
When fools take sloth for firm control,
For what is lost is lost in whole.
Well writen, great command of your work. I really like the style of this poem more than the poem itself, although I did like the poem, or maybe I only grasped a part of it and there is some deeper elusive meaning. In that case, 'what is lost is lost in whole'
Wow, thats amazing! We waste so much time, yet don't even realize it. Keep writing, please.- madi
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Simply amazing, I love the poem 10! ! !