As red as cherry wine
With satin petals fine.
Uprooted as you were.
Cut terminals—I concur.
What was ordinary,
Became as one would call extraordinary.
Vital eloquence unforeseen—
Long live Rosaline.
Days turn into weeks;
Thus, she should be dead.
But wait—what's this! ?
She's just as red!
What was ordinary,
Became as one would call extraordinary.
Vital eloquence unforeseen—
Long live Rosaline.
As she waits on the window sill,
Lonely she is which needs social fill.
A rose without a bush is likened to a lily.
The water—her pond; the glassed vase—her tranquility.
What was ordinary,
Became as one would call extraordinary.
Vital eloquence unforeseen—
Long live Rosaline.
No one knows when she will take her last light.
One thing is for sure, she will rest eternally by night.
What was very ordinary,
Became extremely extraordinary!
What was painfully mundane,
Became wonderfully insane!
Life and Death—she was between.
Last light breath—Long Live Rosaline.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem