The Colorful Rose

The art of love is largely the art of persistence. The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart. A single rose can be my garden.a single friend, my world. Beauty without virtue is like a rose without scent. A life with love must have some thorns, but a life with no love will have no roses. If you enjoy the fragrance of a rose, you must accept the thorns which it bears. We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon-instead of enjoying the roses blooming outside our windows today. Teaching you how to grow a garden is better than giving you a thousand roses. Discipline trains you to put up with disappointments,every rose has a thorn. Forgiveness is the scent that the rose leaves on the heel that crushes it. The red rose whispers of passion & the white rose breathes of love;so the red rose is a falcon & the white rose is a dove. The rose is a flower of love. The world has acclaimed it for centuries. Pink roses are for love hopeful and expectant. White roses are for love dead or forsaken, wow the red roses are for love triumphant. You are not familiar with the hardships of solving enigmas O Beautiful Rose! Perhaps you do not have sublime feelings in your heart. Though you adorn the assembly yet do not participate in its struggles In life’s assembly I am not endowed with this comfort. In this garden I am the complete orchestra of Longing And your life is devoid of the warmth of that Longing. To pluck you from the branch is not my custom This sight is not different from the sight of the eye which can only see the appearances. Ah! O colourful rose this hand is not one of a tormentor How can I explain to you that I am not a flower picker. I am not concerned with intricacies of the philosophic eye Like a real lover I see you through the nightingale’s eye. In spite of innumerable tongues you have chosen silence What is the secret which is concealed in your bosom? Like me you are also a leaf from the garden of Tur Far from the garden I am, far from the garden you are. You are content being but scattered like fragrance Wounded by the sword of love for your real own choice life partner search. This perturbation of mine a means for fulfillment could be This torment a source of my intellectual illumination could be. This very frailty of mine the means of strength could be This mirror of mine envy of the cup of Jam could be. This constant search is a world-illuminating candle And teaches to the steed of human intellect its gait. There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved. Where there is love there is life.