Amid the infinite number of roses of this season
Eyes of the bee chose this one ever so determinedly
Her pretty shape and sweet colour are that of chanson
Filling his heart with her sighs d'amour intuitively
Allure is topped by her enamouring floral aroma
Nose of the bee heightened his olfactory sensibility
To such an extent he is desirous for her nubile ambrosia
Hovering and hoping, he then saw his opportunity
Closer the bee gets to the bouquet radiating point
He buzzes, hums and gets more nervous yet ecstatic
Instantly his miracle mutation began, thence he dreamt
On waking, "he" became "I" whose love is anabatic
"The bee" turned "I" needs no other than this rose
'Cause breezes tell me in her heart there is no thorn
So be my rose forever until no more I breathe and buzz
Let me uproot you to my kingdom of loving passion
