You're beautiful, but you're
empty...One couldn't die for you. Of
course, an ordinary passerby would
think my rose looked just like you.
But my rose, all on her own, is more
important than all of you together,
since she's the one I've watered.
Since she's the one I put under glass,
since she's the one I sheltered behind
the screen. Since she's the one for
whom I killed the caterpillars (except
the two or three butterflies). Since she's
the one I listened to when she complained,
or when she boasted, or even sometimes
when she said nothing at all. Since she's
my rose.
