O how a rose does bloom in the Spring
Much my fancy tickling
Its redness pure, so beautiful
Its redness sweet, so bright and full
But winter comes, and roses wilt
And birds fly south, and humans kill
Bitter cold bites, making enemies
Quicker comes night with skies of ebony
But Spring comes again, and the rose does bloom
Birds return, and man loves, too
Warmth fills the air, coldness forgiven
Joy is come, happiness risen
Winter lasts not forever
Nor Spring, Summer, or Fall
You need not like them
But must learn to love them all
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem