The rose
was not searching for the sunrise:
almost eternal on its branch,
it was searching for something else.
The rose
was not searching for darkness or science:
borderline of flesh and dream,
it was searching for something else.
The rose
was not searching for the rose.
Motionless in the sky
it was searching for something else.
translated by Robert Bly
I love Lorca. He always seems to me not of this world, like he just crossed the veil to offer us his poems.
What a lovely description of him.
eternity
I wonder what it was searching for then?
Perhaps, it wasn’t searching for anything at all for it was just content to be — to fulfill its purpose — to bring joy to those who took the time to enjoy its beauty 🙂
Perhaps we all are to fill that in ourselves.
Hmm, I see…
Well if I were I rose I’d certainly like to be in a nice garden (nice neighborhood) surrounded by other lovely flower friends (neighbors) where I’d be treated nicely by a loving gardener (we all want to be pampered right?), living a rich life (big blooms and shoots of offsprings). I’d want to be enjoyed, admired and cherished while offering rays of hope to passers by and others around me.
Now that really isn’t too much to ask for.
🙂