on the first day
you are the white bleeding
rose
even the vase at the
living room
does not wish to have you
in
who wants pain anyway?
and so the lady of the house
has only disgust for you
white bleeding rose
thrown away into the bin
until a child finds you in the
garbage place
treasuring you as its one
and only flower
that cheers it for the
rest of his life
and that is where meaning is
found
which wilting has not destroyed
the white bleeding rose bleeds
no more
to the happy face of the dying
child....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem