Yet is a rose a rose;
Accoutrement's
of 'death' aliments and milk.
Absorbed and life-giving.
To most it is a kind face,
whom wasts beneath.
And those one or two others
would pass skunk weed off as a 'rose.'
if aching or crushed,
and affably is it cousin in close aroma.
and all whom it's activity touches and
if you are ashamed and never thus broken.
For sin is sin,
thus is why you continuously harass a thorn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem