O Rose, you have bloomed rosier, though bitter,
How many hopefuls waited by your door?
Their dreams lie there, among shreds that litter,
Were they not those who have adored you more?
Bees came to see, only to leave empty,
How true, there is no nectar, no one sips?
Those who aimed lower, hit your thorns, plenty,
Is mine way higher that could reach your lips?
Your cell shuts the world out, but locks you in,
If as chrysalis, is what you intend,
Come out soon, as butterfly all out to win
The world, as outward forms you did transcend;
......And yet, till then, dreams die, this fool implores,
......And God forbid, that one such dream be yours.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem