I like it    I don't like it

Thoughts are useless as are deeds

Already lost is blossom of the young

No more...

Dreams of morning shine

Days leep, submit to night

A curse is to live before dying

A soul torn from the life

Withdrawn, out of sight

Birdes flew out from beautiful garden

Circle of sorrow seems to never end

Wizened are flowers, brought to monument of zeal

Bleak endless haze covers a dawn

Close to relief and waits no more