Maybe their is another way,
of how we lived altogether;
Sometimes too happy,and somewhere so dejected
like those roses that never bothered to bloom
when they should have bloomed,
And now the sun is tired.
The sun who waited
goes gloomy for long-
Then the time comes
when everything goes dark.
Good weather and Good women-
it doesn't always happen,
and when it does-
It doesn't always last.
A fragile heart fears it
and he wasn't the strong who one appreciates.
Someone desires to be a butterfly,
which lived with much delight
but for three summer days,
because these years were too long to wait for such dispirited soul.
He asked for the secret of life
Cause he didn't get it-
It felt like a race where he is always running but never wining,
running into the devil but still grinning.
That mind kept day-dreaming
followed the patient path,
loved the grass and saw the shadow much long.
The Clouds were keen followers
and still to this day prevent him
to watch the beautiful sky...
