Please rose, bloom.
But the rose lies there withering in the orchard.
The sun beams bright on it
And the gentle rains nourish it
But its stem hunches in decadence
As though a windy darkness
Covers all of the light.
I water the rose and tender its soil
But it just continues to wither.
I watch its luster leaves shrivel.
I watch its smooth lavender petals
fade into brittle spotty auburn
Tears of petals lie scattered on the ground
My rose is dying.
Please rose, bloom.
I beg u, don’t leave me.
Stop crying away your beautiful petals.
The petals blow in the directions of my window sill.
I keep an empty vase inside my window.
The vase is for a blossom not yet seen.
I hope to one day find such flower and delicately place it inside.
The rose sits in the orchard.
Although it blows toward the window sill, I do not let it in.
It is not the flower for my vase.
Please rose, bloom.
I buy it special fertilizer
And whisper gentle music to help it grow.
I spend all day watching over it
And all night thinking of ways to make it better.
But, nothing I do works.
It still withers and cries petals towards my window sill.
I cannot let it in my vase.
I love the rose dearly
I want to keep it in the orchard.
But it continues to die.
No matter what I do,
All it wants is to be in the vase of my window sill.
And that's what's killing it.
And that's what's killing it.
The rose is now almost dead.
I love the rose too much to let it die.
There is nothing more that I can do.
My presence coupled with my empty vase
has led to its brittle lusterless withering.
I must leave the rose alone.
Good-bye my sweet rose.
I will never forget you.
