The Colorful Rose

You are not troubled with solving enigmas O, beautiful Rose! nor do you have sublime feelings in your heart Though you ornament the assembly, still you flower apart In life's assembly I am not permitted such comforts In my garden I am the complete orchestra of longing While your life is devoid of love's passionate warmth To pluck you from the branch is not my custom I am not blinded by mere appearances O, colorful rose this hand is not your tormentor I am no callous flower picker! I am no intern to analyze you with scientific eyes Like a lover, I see you with nightingales' eyes Despite your innumerable tongues, you have chosen silence What secrets, O Rose, lie concealed in your bosom? Like me you're a leaf from the garden of Ñër Far from the garden I am, far from the garden we both are You are content, but I am a scattered fragrance Pierced by the sword of love in my quest This turmoil within me might be a means of fulfillment This torment, a source of illumination My frailty might be the beginning of strength My envy might mirror the cup of divination My constant vigil is a world-illuminating candle And teaches this steed, the human intellect, to gallop