Those traits of light, those centellas that charge with magic the dawn, food of the sun in glow, those live, with pain or peace inside.
Night Flowers are, although so beautiful, ephemeral suffer their heartburn, because if one day is the century of roses, one night is the age of the stars.
Therefore, spring fugitive, already our evil and already our good is inferred, registration is ours in an uncertain sunrise, but, may the sun die or live.