Just in the midst of thicket,
Among the nonchalant breeze,
Above the rage hum of waters,
Beside the lonely river rocks,
Under the, secret bushy shades,
But along the oppen eyes of view,
This purple rose arose,
Sprouting so exclusively,
From the noisy fertile dark soil,
Soil along this very river.
I sensed it's uniqueness,
Back from the haze of infancy,
Am the only one who knows it,
Or maybe my sister too,
I don't know, but she must be,
Because I once saw,
I saw her footprint by the rose! ...
That was before it bloomed,
She must have fallen for it's leaves,
I mean heart-shaped shiny leaves.
This rose, by the riverbank,
So bright now,
It has exploded silently smooth,
Into a world of purple universe,
A funnel of hope,
Must be as it seem,
A world of hope,
That each purple chip,
Constrict into the other,
And another,
And again, another,
Till more of another,
To the other,
To the most last at centre axis.
Oh! Yeah, so beautiful!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem, Acura. Thanks for sharing