29 November 2018

The last little rose


The last little rose
innocently lies
the spring - once again -
straight into your eyes.


Like a drop of blood,

glows in autumn light,
you sleep with her scent
all over the night.

The best is yet to come -
you believe in vain,
the last little rose
hurts you once again.









Az utolsó rózsa

Az utolsó rózsa.
Ártatlanul pimasz.
Szemedbe hazudja
még egyszer a tavaszt.

Fáradt őszi fényben
izzó vörös vércsepp.
Bársonyával alszol,
illatával ébredsz.

A java hátra van
még, neki elhiszed...
S az utolsó rózsa
még egyszer megsebez.







9 comments:

  1. Great minds... I blogged about a rose as well :-)
    Amalia
    xo

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, dear Amalia! I love your poem about the little rose very much! And the beautiful cross-stitch rose, too! Big big hugs! :-)

      Delete
  2. Beautiful. Have a happy weekend. Greetings.

    ReplyDelete
  3. you are incredible poet dear Edit!

    "drop of blood"
    wow this sounds so convenient and mysteriously remarkable !

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, my dear friend! You are too kind!

      Delete
  4. I like your thoughts in this poem. Some lines are very inspiring, especially for me. I am convinced, that many people love this poem. Thank you for this.

    ReplyDelete