Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.



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Die Rose/ the Rose/ La Rosa
Die Rose, die im Stillen mir schon blühte, vertrocknet war sie schnell im Morgenlicht. Und auch ihr Duft, verging zu schnell, Wie kurz geträumter Traum, der leicht zerbricht. Wo dürre Zweige sich verworren zeigen, im Dickicht, hinter frischem Grün, zeigen sich Blüten bunt im Farbenreigen, bevor sie schnell im Sommerlicht verblühn. Die Rose, die ich meine, sie blühte nur für mich alleine, im warmen Sommerwind. Doch blühte sie vielleicht auch nur zum Scheine, um mir zu zeigen wie die Zeit verrinnt. --------------------------------------------- The rose, which flowered sectetly for me, had dried up fast in early morning light. And hence its scent, which did not last had passed too fast, Like dreams too briefly dreamed and easy break at last Dry branches twisted in the thicket tight, behind fresh green, and brightly painted blossoms show a coloured round dance, yet be seen before they quickly wilter in summer's glooming light The rose, I mean, blossomed only for me, in this warm summer wind. But also might have bloomed pretenced. And nothing more for me to say, how quickly time trickles away. ---------------------------------------------- La rosa que floreció secreto para mí, secó tan ágil en la luz de la mañana. Y su aroma pasó rápido, como un sueño poco soñado que quebra muy ligero Donde ramas secas muestren confusión del matorral detrás de verde fresco, aparecen flores colorados en colorido baile de la ilusión antes que marchitan en la veraniego luz La rosa, de que hablo, floreció sólo para mí, en el viento caliente del verano. Pero floreció tal vez de farsa, para mostrarme sólo así, cómo tan rápido el tiempo pasa
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