A rose by itself is every rose.
And this one is irreplaceable,
perfect, one sufficient word
in the context of all things.
Without what we see in her,
how can we speak our hopes
or endure a tender moment
in the winds of departure.
Les Roses
From Rilke's collected French Poems
Very poignant! Love that last stanza. Without what we see in the rose, this singular, irreplaceable rose, how could we ever speak our hopes or endure the painful winds of departure.
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