“If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers.”
Unique amongst a million others,
Though all the same they are.
I pity the empty millions
For whom no one could die.
Who are you to the passerby
But red petals and four small thorns?
Blind eyes never find what they are looking for,
But we are responsible for those we tame.
The time wasted is beautiful to me
For it made a rose my rose.
Ah! I shall cry, but it has done me good,
Because of the color of the wheat fields.