Withered seems the rose
Like the lives of many
For it's forsaken its root
Gone is its water
Nor is it shimmery
Although its essential colour is dead
Its hue is beautiful more
Now it seems grave
For it has got a deeper core
And still it has its incense
For now it has no root but its essence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Everything lives on in some form. A great poem.