Moments, which we isolate
From calendars of waste, demanding
Explanations intricate,
Some filaments of understanding
Fitfully illuminate.
But the hyphenated fear,
'In spite of all it may not matter',
Coaxes us to choose and cheer
Some symbol-moments which we flatter
With a poem or a tear.
Thus we fondly dramatise
A rose or kiss or word to capture
Meaning with a pack of lies,
Amid the barren years for rapture
Which it never signifies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A rose of love! ! ! Thanks for sharing.