Like the dregs of January snow
under February rain
or fruitless trees
I have come to die

I was not meant to go beyond
the end of Spring
for that was when love all withered
and life became long

I'd like to say I could survive
a summer's day alone
but it is more like being lost
somewhere cold

And the sun does not warm me
the sea does not calm me
I only dream of spring
and until all is ended
to that blossom stem I cling