The last rose,
With a visage fiery as flame,
Yet chose to bloom at autumn’s end.

You will leave no seeds behind,
I sigh,
Did you ever long for a splendid spring?
Why bloom here,
Why, like me,
Bloom in a lonely world?

No answer comes.
The wind rises,
Petals are torn to shreds,
The rose becomes a bare stem,
Only then do I see its nobility.

9 June 2022 in London

最后的玫瑰

最后的玫瑰
有似火般烈焰的容颜
却选择在秋日最后开放

你呀，留不下种子的
我叹息着
你可期盼过美好的春天？
为何开在这里，
为何像我一样，
开在寂寞的人间？

没有回应
起风了
花瓣被草地撕成了碎片
玫瑰成了光秃秃的茎杆
我才看到她的高贵

2022年6月9日于伦敦