In The Storm Of Roses Comments

So beautifully created, such lovely words, but it is true whenever we turn in the storm of roses.5 Stars full for this lovely poem. I have enjoyed very much!

जब हम गुलाबों की आन्धी में बदल जाते हैं चाहे हो ऐसा कहीं भी काँटों से और पत्तियों की झनझनाहट से जलने लगती हैं रातें जंगल के भीतर चुपचाप कुलबुलाते हैं ऊँची एड़ियों वाले हमारे जूते। अँग्रेज़ी से अनुवाद: अनिल जनविजय

जब हम गुलाबों की आन्धी में बदल जाते हैं चाहे हो ऐसा कहीं भी काँटों से और पत्तियों की झनझनाहट से जलने लगती हैं रातें जंगल के भीतर चुपचाप कुलबुलाते हैं ऊँची एड़ियों वाले हमारे जूते। अँग्रेज़ी से अनुवाद: अनिल जनविजय

I translated it into Hindi जब हम गुलाबों की आन्धी में बदल जाते हैं चाहे हो ऐसा कहीं भी काँटों से और पत्तियों की झनझनाहट से जलने लगती हैं रातें जंगल के भीतर चुपचाप कुलबुलाते हैं ऊँची एड़ियों वाले हमारे जूते। अँग्रेज़ी से अनुवाद: अनिल जनविजय

2) Withdrawal symptoms when her stay in hospital interrupted her long habit of compulsive pill-taking may have contribued to her death. Poor poetess.

Remarkable poem, true thought provoking as no where! Great joy I have got in reading and rereading this lovely gem. Through this short poem, I regard the poetes as one of the great poets of our time. I add here a bit about her: She died in the Roman Sant' Eugenio hospital three weeks after a fire in her bedroom, on 17 October 1973. Local police concluded that the blaze was caused by a lit cigarette. Please continue: 2)

short but it touched the heart lovingly

one of the great poem

in the storm of roses of last night there was no thunder there was no wild rain there was no wild wind only was there love, love and love

Stark realities to be faced in life explained.

And man has to return to the realities of rumbling under the heels, beautiful quatrain. I've seen Mohammad Nehal's translation too, which was very well rendered.

Brilliant poem....Loved it

this is the ITALIAN TRANSLATION of this beautiful poem: ''Nella tempesta di rose'' Ovunque ci volgiamo nella bufera di rose, la notte e’ illuminata di spine, e il rombo del fogliame, cosi’ lieve poc’anzi tra i cespugli, ora ci segue alle calcagna. (Ingeborg Bachmann - translation by Maria Teresa Mandalari)

Is it rapture or torment? Yes.

This is beautiful :)

when we fell out of love it was a storm of leaves pieces of us fell everywhere and as i pass by familiar spots they feel like fallen leaves that cannot hold their own anymore they lie, fade, and eventually turn to dust and bond with eternity forgotten and fallen into the back of mind