I wish to be the dandelion
Doesn't choosing by anyone,
Rarely plucked,
To make options for people's choices
On its petals, withered away,
But doesn't harm others.

I wish to be the dandelion
Rather than pretty, beautiful rose,
Possess pleasant odor,
Usually plucked,
By people to add effulgence to their coats,
Putting it in pockets, near the hearts.

I wish to be a dandelion
Having no thorns,
Neither helpful nor harmful.
But besides thorns of rose, put in pockets
Penetrating through chest,
Bursts their hearts.