How could a rose grow in the cold
And how could it stay and not die; how could people believe if this were told - the tale of a white rose.
No one saw it for a long time - amidst the scarlet and yellow ones, amidst all the beauty of spring and summer and fall
When all else was in bloom...
But in the whiteness one kept on, Winter came and it wasn’t gone
The whiter than white, the most gentle of all, standing up against the cold – so very beautiful.