To light a lantern all I need:
A matchstick and a matchbox
And a will to light the lantern.
Scents from the bowers
Come wandering around me,
Flowers seem sad to reach me
They were happy on the tree,
The scents are beautiful
But it didn't come alone,
Winds came with it
And the lantern is blown;
It is the beginning, death is no end
No market sells such good wills
Where should I go, my friend?