My love is like a red, red rose

Photo by Ana Lyubich

When I see red roses, this poem always comes to mind. It was shared by an old friend I never actually met and haven’t spoken to in years. Yet these words still play loudly in my head every time. It was also my first introduction to the Scottish language which I find really poetic.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose
   That’s newly sprung in June;
O my Luve is like the melody
   That’s sweetly played in tune.
So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
   So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
   Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
   And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;
I will love thee still, my dear,
   While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve!
   And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
   Though it were ten thousand mile...