We are looking for gentle lovers,
Who would honour our beauty,
Who would prize our colour and fragrance,
We are roses of Kashmir,
Craving to blossom in thorny bushes,
We fear being plucked up from the roots,
Before we open up and bloom,
We fear being trampled down,
Under heavy iron boots.
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem