I like the ivy that grows in the stones
In every crevice it finds a home

A place it will find, always one to belong
A nuisance to many, but of them I'm quite fond

I wish to be an ivy plant and make way as I please
Riddle the world with my beauty, though my beauty is weeds

The condfindence of an ivy, such a sight and a treasure
I wish to be an ivy but to an ivy I cannot measure