Three colours adorn the rose in all fair majesty.

Pink, white, and passionate red may all be seen.

We know the norm; the colours warm-

New colours call to mind reform.

In sweetness and in bitterness, we turn to thee, pure rose.

All eyes fall on fairest rose watered on the hour,

the sparkling, fullest, and the loveliest of all flowers.

Thy shining dew, distorting hue,

inspire a life without rue.

In sweetness and in bitterness, we turn to thee, fair rose.

Your bed is pure, no foreign root entwines with your own.

But to see we separate ourselves from grassy throne.

Fair soil- your home, the sun- your own,

Your quiet loveliness renowned.

But alas, your subtle thorns.

In pain and in betrayal, we turn from thee, sour rose.