We have beautiful roses.
That we smell with our nose.
We have blood that flows.
Inside our flesh like the ocean.
But when blood comes out.
Tears comes out from our eyes.
When the roses bloom.
God cries out rain from the skies.
Only when the innocent dies.
And being in a coffin draped with red roses.
Like red cherries in bushes.
A person lost blood and at rest in peace with good memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem, but I never shed a tear when I lost blood. Cheers.