Red roses planted in a filthy ravine, For the bliss of passersby. Brought there by witches – Visually stunning, Left at the mercy of rain, Blooming red. The wise will say it is in honor of the mortals – While the lowly will glance with irony, Their eyes deceitful. Just as Venus embodies perfect beauty, Red creations have emerged in this filthy place, Tender roses, the ravine’s charm.