A rose – elegant, bright,
Unique in every way.
You stand proudly, like a queen,
Clothed in a golden gown,
A crown of morning dew
Adorning your head.
All the riches of the garden belong to you.
Though you're surrounded by thorns,
All I ever see is an angelic blossom
Smiling innocently at me.
But the harmony of the garden will soon be destroyed.
A new flower – a delicate iris – flourishes
And gains much of the attention
That you so love and adore.
You unearth your forgotten side,
The side that contains jealousy –
The root of many evils.
Who wouldn't be jealous?
One day you're showered with attention and praise.
The next you've been replaced by a nuovo fiore,
All the adoration you were told you had merited
Suddenly vanished.
Who wouldn't be jealous?
But envy is a parasite.
It consumes you – your thoughts,
Emotions, actions, everything.
It drains away your life
And when everything is said and done,
All that's left
Is a wilted yellow rose.