A Detailed Guide to the Latest on the Language of Flowers and Legends of the Wild Rose
The wild rose is also known as the multiflora rose. It prefers to grow in thickets beside roads, along field edges or on hilly land, and is distributed in East China, Central South China and other places. It usually blooms from May to June, and is not as eye-catching as other roses, only opening silently. Its flower colors include white, light red, deep peach red, yellow and so on. Now let us take a look together at the language of flowers and the legends of the wild rose!
The Language of Flowers of the Wild Rose
Romantic love. Artificially cultivated roses do not bear fruit, but the wild rose does grow tender, dripping red fruit. Besides being comparable in appearance to other roses, its fruit is also edible. This flower has a poet-like temperament, so its language of flowers is romance. People born under the blessing of this flower have a romantic personality, are dreamy children at heart, yet possess sharp judgment when handling matters, are suited to work in the arts, and are also perfectionists in matters of the heart.
The Value of the Wild Rose
The wild rose blooms in early summer, with abundant flowers and lush leaves, a clear and quiet fragrance, flower shapes in a thousand forms, and colors in a riot of variety. It is also extremely adaptable, can be cultivated over a fairly wide range, and is easy to propagate. It is a rather good landscaping material and can be planted beside streams, along roads, at garden edges, in corners of the ground, and so on, or used for greening flower columns, flower stands, flower gates, hedges and fences, walls, rockeries, balconies, windowsills, overpasses and more. It often grows in dense clumps, with branches in full brilliant bloom, making for quite a fine sight. Eaten as food, it has the effects of clearing summer heat and resolving dampness, regulating qi and harmonizing the stomach, and stopping bleeding.
The Legend of the Wild Rose
In the prince's garden, every flower was raised with care, and every flower belonged to a different person. Little Rose was born here, and from the time she was still a small bud, the one who looked after her was him. Under his meticulous care, she cautiously poked her head out of the green room, joyfully taking in this world and taking in him. He gazed at her with tender affection and a smile. In the instant she gazed at him, she understood from his eyes that her whole life belonged to him.
Little Rose grew day by day, and every day she appeared before him in her most beautiful form. And he always smiled, watering her, dressing her up, sheltering her from wind and rain.
The flowers in the garden were all in full bloom, for their own masters, for the heart that cherished them. One night, Little Rose was surprised to find that beside her there was another beautiful rosebud. The rose who had not yet entered the world was already so outstanding, so graceful——she was the flower belonging to the prince, the one and only rose. The prince's deep affection opened the little rose's bud. Petal by petal she unfurled her beauty, her languid stamens rubbing against silk-like petals. She smiled faintly, so composed, so elegant. Her fragrance spread through the wind, and her petals rippled softly with happiness.
The moment Little Rose saw her, she was struck with admiration——what a beautiful flower! Little Rose also gazed sweetly at her new neighbor. The two flowers soon became close friends who shared everything.
When the prince came to the garden again, he was at once moved by the beauty of the rose in the morning light. But he knew that every flower belonged to a different person, and he did not covet her; he only possessed Little Rose.
Rose still waited brilliantly for him, and he cared for her and cherished her as always. Only occasionally would he gaze for a long time at the rose beside Little Rose. He would gently brush away the weeds beside her, he would grow melancholy over her sighs, and he would smile because of her radiance.
Because of this, he did not notice that his rose was growing weaker day by day. Rose was a sentimental flower. She loved him, and she paid attention to his every movement. Sensitive as she was, she quickly discovered his feelings for the rose. Wordlessly, she soon grew weak. But besides dressing herself even more carefully each day before he arrived, so that he would not discover her weakness, what else could kind Rose do? Gradually, Rose could no longer sleep peacefully.
At night, weak as she was, she would always silently watch the innocent, pure rose and weep alone in the night wind. The rose was not at fault; she bloomed for the prince. Rose was not at fault either; she blossomed for him. The prince was not at fault either; he still cared for her wholeheartedly, only occasionally glancing at the rose's figure. But perhaps he did not understand how sensitive and how fragile Rose was. Only his complete love could sustain her whole life.
Her careful adornment could no longer conceal the withering of her life. That day, after she saw him off with tender affection, she turned around, looked at the rose in full bloom, and said quietly: “Rose, I am leaving. He is very good to me, always so meticulous. He thinks he loves me and possesses me, but in his consciousness what he loves is you. Only I can see it. Without his complete love, I could not have lived to today. I only hope that in the days without me, he can be happy. Rose, bloom your beauty well, for the prince, and for me too, all right?”.
The rose wept, “But, but he is yours, and you are his, is that not enough? What he loves is you!” The rose had not finished speaking, because she saw Rose fall, still wearing a faint smile and a pale melancholy on her face.
The next day, when the prince came to the garden, all he saw was the fallen Rose and the rose with tears in her eyes. Slowly, he said to her: “My Rose, how can you be so foolish? I am yours, and you are mine. You should understand, you should have known!”