Rapture flames senses dwell agony.
Sarrow of cost wave the future bye.
Comrade dispel our breathe tale tragedy.
A pale brush a white rose evermore cry.
Its so clear your like short poems. You really make them real even as short. I like it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
White rose form the garland of life`s uselessness.We only play our foolish greedy trail of using each other for superiority complex.All gets washed away in one loss of flame.