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Lovers know they are roses
In the bloody veil of Love;
They live astounded
By Love’s matchless beauty.
The intellect says,
“The six directions are blocked !”
Love says. “ There’s a way!
I’ve taken it thousands of times.”
Intellect sees a market
And starts to haggle;
Love sees thousands of markets
Beyond that market.
How many mystic martyrs
Hidden in Love’s soul
Have abandoned the preacher’s chair
To climb onto the scaffold!
Lovers who drink the wine’s dregs
Reel from bliss to bliss;
Burn inwardly with denial.
Intellect says, “ Stay where you are !
Annihilation has only thorns !”
Love laughs, “ The thorns are in you !”
Keep silent, and tear Being’s thorn..
stunning rose! and a beautiful poem! we have some roses in our garden, but only one of them oozes a lovely scent – sadly enough, this year it's been worm-eaten, and probably won't bloom at all… it used to look a lot like this one, though, so thank you, canan, for "resurrecting" with your wonderful picture! hugs, sabine.