Like the beauty of a rose,
My heart unfolds.
The raindrops glistening in the sun
Tell stories of the past storm.
With thorns I may have pricked your hand;
I could not understand.
I hope the fragrance of my flower
Healed bleeding hand.
And when you plucked my rose so fair,
I could only lie there;
And let my beauty speak to you
Of love divine.
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