Çomes a time when time falls short
Comes rain and does not do much
Let what may come and let them go
For no thing can remain to live and show.
For those that show will have no more
And those who have will never grow
With all the things that decay and compose
Will surely return to the beauty of The Rose.
The Rose of whose the petal that drops
Only to reacquire the everlasting parts of
The endless fantasy, the sublime serenity.
Allow it to merge into the divine atrocity.
But point on no fault, point only north
Point to the star that guides you warmth
Pillow your wrongs, they make you
Time will come again and take you through。