The Krasnodar Rose in Petersburg

The Krasnodar Rose near my window does bloom.
From the rocky soil, with a knife, I set her free.
It rained a little at the fall of that day's gloom.
Like Petersburg’s breath – a moist greeting for me.

We flew away, and in the big case, so red,
Like a joey in a pouch, my Rose sat inside.
The humming, bumpy road filled her with dread,
So the Rose couldn't sleep, she’d got a fright.

We are at home; from the case she’s unbound.
I touched my Rose so tired; furthermore,
I gathered clumps of southern ground,
So that my Rose could bloom as before.

I watered her, touched her thorns, and so,
She, a little hedgehog, made my fingers bleed.
I spoke to her, “My dearest Rose, please, grow!
What a joy that we’ve finally met! Indeed!”

And her little head, like a shiny touch of July,
Turned toward me – a soft breeze blows...
Each morning her beauty feasts my eye –
Under my window blooms the southern Rose.

November 2025
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Оригинал: Наталья Грэйс, "Краснодарская роза в Петербурге", 2024