Wilted red where roses bloom,
the smell of death and sweet perfume.
Where hearts are pierced and lovers meet,
Where death has flavour and tastes so sweet.
To die to self to love again,
in winter chills and pouring rain.
Where ice will thaw and you fall through,
Where your heart will learn what it was meant to do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem