There stood a red rose of elegance,
In a field of loneliness;
The wind blows and each breeze takes a petal,
Its stem is becoming weak;
The clouds are closing in on the rose's place.
The raindrops begin to fall;
Still the wind blows and takes away its beauty,
After hours of pain, the remains stand limp;
As the last petal hang,
I saw a tear fall from its face and felt sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem