The Rose Spoke to Me
I held my bunch of flowers tenderly.
They looked so bright and colorfully.
I gazed at them all puzzled.
Their beauty to me was a riddle.
The flowers now lay there quietly.
I found them asking me,
Who I was and the I told them,
That I was their admirer.
These roses couldn't understand.
They told me they had thorns at hand.
They said they could hurt me in a second.
They could if they wanted to I reckoned.
But I conversed with them,
That I loved them and they me.
So there couldn't any hurt be.
And we gazed and smiled at each other.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem