（Ⅰ）
The Rose of Paris
Cold, a little sweet
And capriciously sulky
（Ⅱ）
On the bed of the rose
Sleepily lays an afternoon light
A soft and lazy smell lingers
With her naked stamen
（Ⅲ）
Yes, I have surely inhaled
The smell "Under the rose"
A secret place
（Ⅳ）
Have a close look at the stem of the rose
All thorns looking down
If you caress it gently from the top
It doesn't prick you
But when you try
To pick a flower by force
The rose then
Shows her sharp nails
Satori
