Although she
wilts and falls to dust, next
spring she'll bloom in hearty lust, here
in the garden of my dreams aloft and comely.
A fragrant queen among the rest, she'll
reign supreme upon the
garden wall.
In velvet
gown with slippers spiked, she
holds a morning dewdropp tight within
the bosom of her charms for all who wander past
the path beneath the gentle leaves, and
spies the rose upon the
garden wall.
(© March 2007 Amsterdam, the Netherlands)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem