the flowers decay
and the bird's sweet cries die out
in time for your death
of which was all according to fate

the sun sets on the horizon
and my tears pervert the mood with sorrow
and I wait for the day that fate
will let me lie next to you

They may pray to God and his divinity
Of which to me, is nothing more than a false reality
Oh the sinners and saints can burn
For only a holy angel will stir up my concern

Oh dear angel, a six-winged creature
Cover your face, your feet, and oh you fly
Oh, dear angel, I fear you not
Please just enchant me with those eyes

heads of golden yellow stem so green and bright
standing up so tall standing so upright.

glowing in the sun in the early dawn
sat there on display in the early morn.

even in the boxes of the window sill
this lovely springtime flower the golden daffodil.

such a sight  to see such a lovely thing
i love to see the daffodils in the early spring

The pastel sky strikes forward, no longer soft-spoken
And the birds sing enchanting melodies
That almost lull me back to sleep
But with all the strength in this heart of mine
My body arises and dances with the peeking sunlight
For today is a lovely day for the peonies to bloom
Pink fluttering petals, blushing at my touch
I know they love me, they really do
I leave my home, whose color has gone and died
Eaten up by the tragedy of time
Today my sorrows shall dissolve
Tears mixed with tea
And quenches my thirst of loneliness
The peonies bloom and decorate the grave
And even if my heart pulls at me, I will not cry
I shall celebrate all that is of death and life
For no one, not a single person on earth
Can stop the peonies from blooming, oh so beautifully.

Birds lull enchanting eyes closed,
with a feathery kiss of a lullaby;
Timid, temporary breaths sigh into the breeze,
like soft music, playing from a pastel castle,
a muse of life, a soft tune amidst midnight's hue.

i love you, i love you not
i pull on the petals till our friendship rots
friendships never seem to last
every good memory lives in the past
and dies in the hopes of my hand
you move forward, but here i stand
the only person who stays is me
till death do I part, I will one day be free

her loneliness surpassed the vast empty field
and on her journey, the truth began to reveal
no lavender, no roses, nothing lovely of the sort
she would be lonely, forevermore
she wished to cry and drown the lands
and so the gods compromised with her demands
they had left her papers and pens
in which she could draw and write, again and again
if only the flower in which she dreamed of, in which she drew
could blossom as beautifully as real ones do
and amongst her stories and the movement of the pen
she wished she could write a story and paint a scene
of which she had a happy end