While Wandering With My Grandfather

A red rose in a white rose’s tree, How unique could this be, For the first time I see, A red rose in a white rose’s tree For how long will the red rose last? Did it blossom in the past? I wish it wouldn’t wither fast, For how long the red rose will last Should I pick the red rose for her? Maybe this rose lasts forever, Will it be missed by her forger? Should I pick the red rose for her? Perhaps the red rose must stay. I am glad I saw it today, she may bloom next May, Perhaps the red rose must stay A red rose in a white rose’s tree, Can be so rare, but for me There is more beauty and glee: A red rose in a white rose’s tree The poet was walking with his grandfather when he saw two rose’s trees, with entangled branches; therefore a red rose seemed to flourish in a white rose’s tree. Then those jiggling lines were naturally suggested. After sitting in the silent and peaceful inside of a mosque, with paper and pen, he wrote verses which mixed the red rose with the rare muse by him loved.