When I was young a man told me,
mine was the fairest face across every sea,
on every field of emeralds,
'neath every weeping willow tree.

When I gave him my heart, he disappeared,

so I turned to the trees.
When I asked them for love,
they weathered to ash,
leaving only the sea,

when I asked her for comfort,
she dried into sand,
and I was left alone,

so, I turned on myself,
and found only bones;
nothing infinite to hold.

There is no use for beauty in this new world, only strength.
That is why gravestones cover corpses.
That is why the mountains are so grand.