Roses: A Miscellany

Selections from Favourite Poets

What is a rose?

The obvious answer, is that it is the flower of a certain flowering plant, prized for its colour, its intricate shape, and its delicate scent. These are the elements that make up the attractiveness of the rose, which have made it a flower of cultural significance: in gardens, bouquets and flower-vases, and as a literary symbol. In the realm of poetry, roses may stand simply as an example of natural beauty, or as a symbol of the joys of life, of a woman’s beauty, or of a deeper and more intricate mystery lying in or beyond nature. Rosa Mystica (“Mystic Rose”) is a title applied to the Virgin Mary in Catholic devotion, indicating the singular beauty and purity of her soul. The penultimate stage of Dante’s heavenly ascent in the Commedia (“The Divine Comedy”) has him see the blessed souls in Heaven arranged in the figure of a rose. The rose features commonly in Persian poetry, where, rather bizarrely, it is the object of the nightingale’s longing and devotion, and can be a symbol for a human lover or for God, the ultimate beloved of the Sufi mystic. In Western poetry, the rose may be an example of a kind of epiphany, an exemplar of beauty taking shape and arousing our interest and attention. It may even, as in the poem by Borges titled The Unending Rose, become a symbol for the universe.

The citations below are mostly culled from a few favourite poets (Borges, Dante, Eliot, Rilke), but I will give first place to two memorable and gnomic aphorisms from Der cherubinischer Wandersmann (“The Cherubinic Wanderer”) by the Catholic convert and mystical poet Angelus Silesius (1624-77). In each case, the original words will be given first (in English, German, Italian, or Spanish) followed by an English translation as required.

The above photo is of roses that once bloomed in my grandmother’s garden. She has recently passed away, and I share the picture and these quotations in her memory.

*

Angelus Silesius 
(1624-77)

Die Rose / welche hier dein äußres Auge siht /
Die hat von Ewigkeit in Gott also geblüht.

The rose which here on earth is now perceived by me,
Has blossomed thus in God from all eternity.

-Book 1, Aphorism 108. Translated by Maria Shrady.

Die Ros' ist ohn warum / sie blühet weil sie blühet /
Sie acht nicht ihrer selbst / fragt nicht ob man sie siehet.

The rose does have no why; it blossoms without reason,
Forgetful of itself, oblivious to our vision.

-Book 1, Aphorism 289. Translated by Maria Shrady.

Dante Alighieri 
(1265-1321)

Nel giallo de la rosa sempiterna,
che si digrada e dilata e redole
odor di lode al sol che sempre verna,

qual è colui che tace e dicer vole,
mi trasse Bëatrice, e disse: «Mira
quanto è ’l convento de le bianche stole!

Vedi nostra città quant’ ella gira;
vedi li nostri scanni sì ripieni,
che poca gente più ci si disira.

Into the yellow of the eternal Rose
that slopes and stretches and diffuses fragrance
of praise unto the Sun of endless spring,

now Beatrice drew me as one who, though
he would speak out, is silent. And she said:
“See how great is this council of white robes!

See how much space our city’s circuit spans!
See how our seated ranks are now so full
that little room is left for any more!

-Paradiso, Canto XXX. Translated by Allen Mandelbaum.

In forma dunque di candida rosa
mi si mostrava la milizia santa
che nel suo sangue Cristo fece sposa;

ma l’altra, che volando vede e canta
la gloria di colui che la ’nnamora
e la bontà che la fece cotanta,

sì come schiera d’ape che s’infiora
una fïata e una si ritorna
là dove suo laboro s’insapora,

nel gran fior discendeva che s’addorna
di tante foglie, e quindi risaliva
là dove ’l süo amor sempre soggiorna.

So, in the shape of that white Rose, the holy
legion was shown to me—the host that Christ,
with His own blood, had taken as His bride.

The other host, which, flying, sees and sings
the glory of the One who draws its love,
and that goodness which granted it such glory,

just like a swarm of bees that, at one moment,
enters the flowers and, at another, turns
back to that labor which yields such sweet savor,

descended into that vast flower graced
with many petals, then again rose up
to the eternal dwelling of its love.

-Paradiso, Canto XXXI. Translated by Allen Mandelbaum.

The sunlit rose that dominates the culminating cantos of the Paradiso proclaims the fulfillment of the poet’s long spiritual quest. Purged of sin and perfected in holiness, he is granted a mystic vision of eternal glory. This vision is twofold: the poet first perceives a gigantic white rose on whose petals are enthroned the entire company of saints; he then lifts his eyes to the sun, symbol of God, shining down upon the rose. It has been noted that the dual nature of this vision corresponds to the two stages of mystic contemplation defined by St Bernard, the first stage revealing the saints in glory and the second revealing God Himself. The rose, symbolizing the lower of these stages, serves as a necessary precursor of the higher. Moreover, the symbols of sun and rose are interdependent and ultimately inseparable. It is the sun that gives life to the rose and the rose that makes manifest the sun’s power and glory. A full comprehension of the mystic interrelation between the Creator and His creation marks the end of Dante’s journey and the highest attainment of spiritual vision.

-Barbara Seward, Dante’s Mystic Rose in Studies in Philology (Vol. 52, No. 4 (Oct. 1955), pp. 515-523, published by University of North Carolina Press. Accessed via Jstor.

Rainer Maria Rilke
(1875-1926)

Freilich ist es seltsam, die Erde nicht mehr zu bewohnen,
kaum erlernte Gebräuche nicht mehr zu üben,
Rosen, und andern eigens versprechenden Dingen
nicht die Bedeutung menschlicher Zukunft zu geben...

It is truly strange to no longer inhabit the earth,
to no longer practice customs barely acquired,
not to give a meaning of human futurity
to roses, and other expressly promising things...

-Duineser Elegien (“Duino Elegies”), 1st Elegy. Translated by A.S. Kline.

Errichtet keinen Denkstein. Laßt die Rose
nur jedes Jahr zu seinen Gunsten blühn.
Denn Orpheus ists. Seine Metamorphose
in dem und dem. Wir sollen uns nicht mühn

um andre Namen. Ein für alle Male
ists Orpheus, wenn es singt. Er kommt und geht.
Ists nicht schon viel, wenn er die Rosenschale
um ein paar Tage manchmal übersteht?

Raise no gravestone. Only let the rose
bloom every year to favour him.
Since it is Orpheus. His metamorphosis
in this and that. We don’t need

other names. Once and for all
it is Orpheus, when he sings. He comes and goes.
Is it not much already that he sometimes stays
for a few days in the petal of the rose?

-Die Sonette an Orpheus (“Sonnets to Orpheus”), Part 1, 5. Translated by A.S. Kline.

Rose, du thronende, denen im Altertume
warst du ein Kelch mit einfachem Rand.
Uns aber bist du die volle zahllose Blume,
der unerschöpfliche Gebenstand.
 
In deinem Reichtum scheinst du wie Kleidung um Kleidung
um einen Leib aus nichts als Glanz;
aber dein einzelnes Blatt ist zugleich die Vermeidung
und die Verleugung jedes Gewands.

Rose, you enthroned one, to those in ancient times
You were a single-rimmed chalice,
But to us you are the full, countless flower,
The inexhaustible object.

In your richness, you seem like fold on fold,
Clothing a body of nothing but splendour,
Yet at the same time your single leaf,
Is refusal, avoidance of every garment.

-Die Sonette an Orpheus (“Sonnets to Orpheus”), Part 2, 6. Translated by A.S. Kline.

J.L. Borges 
(1899-1986)

No volverá tu voz a lo que el persa
Dijo en su lengua de aves y de rosas,
Cuando al ocaso, ante la luz dispersa,
Quieras decir inolvidables cosas.

You will never recapture what the Persian
said in his language woven with birds and roses,
when, in the sunset, before the light disperses,
you wish to give words to unforgettable things.

-From Limits (Límites), translated Alastair Reid.

A los quinientos años de la Héjira
Persia miró desde sus alminares
La invasión de las lanzas del desierto
Y Attar de Nishapur miró una rosa
Y le dijo con tácita palabra
Como el que piensa, no como el que reza:
. . .
Soy ciego y nada sé, pero preveo
Que son más los caminos. Cada cosa
Es infinitas cosas. Eres música,
Firmamentos, palacios, ríos, ángeles,
Rosa profunda, ilimitada, íntima,
Que el Señor mostrará a mis ojos muertos.

Five hundred years in the wake of the Hegira,
Persia looked down from its minarets
On the invasion of the desert lances,
And Attar or Nishapur gazed on a rose,
Addressing it in words that had no sound,
As one who thinks rather than one who prays:
. . .
“I am blind and I know nothing, but I see
  There are more ways to go; and everything
  Is an infinity of things. You, you are music,
  Rivers, firmaments, palaces, and angels,
  O endless rose, intimate, without limit,
  Which the Lord will finally show to my dead eyes.”

-From The Unending Rose (translated Alastair Reid). The Spanish original bears an English title, and was included in the collection La Rosa Profunda (1975).

T.S. Eliot
(1888-1965)

Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.

-From Four Quartets: Burnt Norton.

And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flames are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

-From Four Quartets: Little Gidding.

Christian Rossetti
(1830-1894)

The lily has a smooth stalk,
  Will never hurt your hand;
But the rose upon her briar
  Is lady of the land.

There's sweetness in an apple tree,
  And profit in the corn;
But lady of all beauty
  Is a rose upon a thorn.

When with moss and honey
  She tips her bending briar,
And half unfolds her glowing heart,
  She sets the world on fire.

-The Rose.

*

Thanks for reading.

Copyright to the above poems and translations belongs to the poets and translators respectively, unless in public domain. I consider this to fall under fair use.

All other text © Metrical Poet, 2025.

*

Sources:

Angelus Silesius, Maria Shrady, The Cherubinic Wanderer (Paulist Press, New York [etc.], 1986).

The Allen Mandelbaum translation of Dante’s Divine Comedy was accessed via Digital Dante. A nice edition of it is available from Everyman (1995).

Barbara Seward, Dante’s Mystic Rose in Studies in Philology (Vol. 52, No. 4 (Oct. 1955), pp. 515-523, published by University of North Carolina Press. Accessed via Jstor.

The A.S. Kline translations of Rilke are publicly accessible here.

Jorge Luis Borges (et al.), Poems of the Night: A Dual Language Edition with Parallel Text (Penguin Books [Penguin Classics Series], New York, 2010).

I do not have a volume of T.S. Eliot’s collected poems to hand, but you can find the cited passages here.

I do not know where the Christian Rossetti poem was published, but it must be in the public domain. You can find the text here.