Born in that summer blood,
Riding on a red horse across the hurry flood
That would bury certain
And make time gain fast,
Resting no pace for reviewing the past.
Riots of precocious seeds,
Growing like crazy in a wild case,
Pink marching, Red invading, Vermilion slaughtering
As Scarlet dying
On the battlefield of early youth,
Who will take the tale-like oath?
Some say heartless and hurtless
Is the Rose-child.
Who is he,
Who is she,
Nature tells.
It's a lion wearing the bright moonlight
Around the proud neck?
Or a serpent hissing foggy words
On your side back?
It's a secret undestroyed
A fate undestined
A love unspoiled
A dream unveiled.
Outside the transparent skin
Lively wraps the heating lungs within,
A small rose strengthening
So fair and so keen.
Wang Qian
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rose-child/
