Like the seasons,
we continue on this cycle.

Though we are,
without the ordered sequence.

Summers begins our year,
with hot blazes of passion.

Autumn breezes past,
with glimmers of warmth.

Suddenly, winter appears,
painful with deep colds.

Spring then follows,
bringing heavy wet clouds.

The time has come,
to which we repeat.

Without variation,
we sing our song again