Fate of Rose
The fairest creature I, in the garden of the blossoms,
My scarlet visage overweighs the evil of thorny vesture,
In my dwelling, an unheard hymn the sparrows sing of,
Melodies of praise stacked up like hay in the hayfield,
A charming and so seductive I am in the eyes of theirs,
So devoted followers, often the heart of gold I encounter,
Decollate I, gently with bare hand amongst the legion of flowers,
Plunges in the bottle and in the altar before statues I stand,
Aromatic incense wafting and sinking in my tinged petals,
Wilt and dust I, inhaling and harking to prayers of faithful souls,
Glorious days of life, so beautiful and gilded with lustre,
A couple plod in the blinking of the fair moon of fond house,
Behead I by the boy and offer me to his charming lady,
Lonely days of lady, tug me out of the embossed casket,
Stares so deeply and sips fragrance of mine so sweetly.
Oh! Days are not so unkind sometimes of my patron,
So harshly drag I, tears oozing from the shore of her sea,
A scant of my scent she drinks not nor gives a fond gaze,
A petal by petal scatters my feathers on the floor of so much detest,
Tramples upon me, and hails at me of woe inflicted by him,
Mistress of the garden I, joy and melancholy of living souls.
Copyright © Thinley Ut Jamtsho | Year Posted 2019
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