I see a dying swan
Resting on the marshes of the bank
Her feathers white as snow
Her wings like that of a silk
I hear a dying swan
whispering softly to the river
While she rests and sleeps
the river answers back with a song
A song of life and death
Graping onto her graceful neck
breath took her away
And now she sleeps and never comes back
I know a dying swan
she's like a mother
and the river a home
though her eyes told me no story anymore
I still believe her, that dying swan