The rose's scent for the Royal Highness
Looks like red for some Yorks running away
Forever to live in their white blindness.
The throne was lost just in the spring, in May.
In contrast, Queen Elizabeth had bent
All strange enmity, while needing to cry.
Don't touch the name and the white rose's scent.
Don't mix the scent of any open lie.
The indifference as the hatred twists
The power of a queen into a pawn,
But the beauty of the roses still exists,
When we search for them early in the dawn.
The cruelty of any slick black heart
Blames the roses and the ideas of art.
Poem by Marieta Maglas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem