A crimson bloom amongst the buds
It’s magic hue caught my eye
A pretty rose yet untouched
Under the open sky
Silently played the hand of fate
Smote my hand, my luck
For while I nursed the prick of thorns
Else the rose did pluck
I know not of the stranger
Nor the vase it fill
But the fragrance of that rose
Fades not from memory still
............(c) 2009 Ravinder Malhotra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem