With a rose you said
Come look for me
The whole evening long
I'll be alone
And I -for you
I die for you-
With a rose I came to you
White as the clouds from afar
As the bitter night passed in vain
As the foam that froths upon the sea
It isn't white the rose I bring you
Yellow as the fever that consumes me
As the liqueur that bewitches words
As the poison that drips from your breast
It isn't yellow the rose that I bring you
In the air the roses sigh, expire
Petal by petal they show the colour
But the flower that alone grows in the bramble
White is not pain
Red is not love
The flower it's only the gift I bring you
Pink as a small-time novel
As the surrender that emerges on the face
As the wait that weighs on the lips
It isn't pink the rose I bring you
As the purple that sets the morning ablaze
As the blade that heats up your pillow
As the thorn that draws near to the heart
This red is the rose I bring you
Crystal tears wet it
Tears and wine shed along the path
Drop by drop, lost in the rain
Drop by drop, they dried up its heart
Bring me then the most beautiful flower
The one that lasts more than love itself
The flower that alone doesn't mirror the bramble
Perfect of pain
Perfect of its heart
Perfect of the gift it makes of itself