the roses learn to live
with their thorns, now they all recognize
them
as protection, from the hands of the
mad woman
cutting roses as offerings of her
nightmares,
why can't we learn too to live
with the thorns?
the pains and bitterness are in fact
our protectors too
from too much complacency
from the dangers of
familiarity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem