This life…
that beautiful rose with thorns…

That floods you with its aroma…
but that drops its leaves
in each of its hills…

That pricks you,
that amazes you…
that invades you,
that enlightens you…

That astonish you,
and amuse you,
but that also blurs you…

No … it won’t stop being a rose,
the one we all carry…
on each flap,
but with its thorns …