ϖhat hath ye that stole mine light?
Now it slumbers still as stone.
Long gone ye and I unthrone,
Pondering the weight of lovelorn grown.
Strange the joy that sets us weeping,
Quiet river of melancholy flows.
Divided minds blame the bodies,
crippled hearts now lead by the nose.
What hath ye that makes mine surrender?
To the petals of the blooming rose.
Thorn after thorn, in pain I groan
Climbing the stem spreading the pollen sown.
Robust weather and all things blue,
Birds chirping to the mystical hue.
Why must thou leave the forest,
Must ye need to venture the new?
Why cannot thou have thy spirit strong?
To fix the old and renew, reform.
To place thy trust in thy own hands,
So that only ye would solely understand.
To place thy faith in the old soft spot.
Courage and sail upon the angry sea, arrive
To the Mountains that have stood tall, forever
So shall our dignity if you allow it to be。