Desert rose

I sit in the dark and look at the flower.

The colours inside are white like the snows of the north,

Outside again a pink sequence

Bitterly reminiscent of merciful infidelity.

Deep inside - full of sharp sand,

The slender petal eternally speechless seems.

But the stalk, the branches of feelings, are modest

And root - root mighty, coarse - rough beauty.

I sit in the dark and watch the flower.

Fragile splendour alternates with ponderous endurance.

Lovingly she leads a hundred herds,

It is untouched by the sun, the world or beasts.

But what will break the desert rose? Which doom?

Reason, wretched treachery, and the confusions of the heart.