Canst thou not see this rose with love doth blush?
With ne'er a hint of tawny coloured hues
Her Michelangelo with swirling flush
Of love's deepest amaranth did suffuse.
A bitter tainted tongue canst sing with all its might
It ne'er will hush the plainsongs fragrant balms
Nor crush the beating hearts that hold it tight
For choirs grow loud with praise in loving psalms
The hand that tries to pluck will feel the thorns
For thorns of love protect her very core
Such flushing tints of joy in summer's morns
To holdeth fast her hues for evermore.
Echoing chorus of the past, take rest,
For this rose will remain in friendship's breast.
(Let no amount of criticism damage the loving friendship
that has flowered within your heart. Thorns provide protection
both within and without.)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem