I see a forlorn rose-flower
Gracing the mid-summer's green,
Soft petals withering away
And taking away its sheen.
It stands bereft in yellowed grass
Companions dead and gone,
Who will return when winter's part
And a tender morning's born.
The summer sun unrelenting
No remorse shown for the bloom,
Yet, it defies the blazing sun
Barely caring for its doom.
No softened hands did pick it up
To adorn some household gay,
Nor grace a bouquet full of blooms
Or kept on some gravestone grey.
It'll leave behind its fragrance sweet
Lo reminiscent of its stay,
Its legacy of endless love
With memories sweet and gay.
Perhaps the rose is left behind
That all lovelorn souls be blessed,
An elegy for haunting love
At heaven's fervent behest.
***************
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem