Who are you, that rose blooms on your branch,
A tapestry of colors, soft yet bold?
In morning light, your petals gently dance,
While whispers of the twilight tell of old.

Yet tears, like dewdrops, gather on your skin,
Each one a story carved by time’s cruel hand.
The beauty fades, as thorns remind within,
Of bitter truths that fate can sometimes brand.

But in the midst of sorrow, hope will rise,
For every thorn, a lesson can bestow.
To wear the wounds, yet still embrace the skies,
And through the tears, a deeper beauty show.

So bloom, dear rose, though life may pierce and sting,
In every tear, the strength of love takes wing.

Cvet in trn

Kdo si ti, da rožica cveti na tvoji veji,
tapiserija barv, mehka, drzna?
V jutranji svetlobi tvoji cvetni listi nežno plešejo,
medtem ko šepet somraka pripoveduje o starem.

Toda solze se kot rosne kapljice nabirajo na tvoji koži,
vsaka je zgodba, ki jo je izklesala okrutna roka časa.
Lepota zbledi, kot trnjev opomin od znotraj,
o grenkih resnicah, ki jih usoda včasih ožigosa.

Toda sredi žalosti se bo dvignilo upanje,
za vsak trn lahko da nauk.
Nositi rane, a še vedno objemati nebo,
in skozi solze vidiš globljo lepoto predstave.

Tako cveti, draga vrtnica, čeprav življenje prebada in zbada,
skozi vsako solzo se ljubezen okrepi in dobi krila.

Tomaž Jevšenak