Our sorrows are like frost on a blossom;
pain, both fleeting and final.
The blossom drops without bearing fruit
and yet, let the earth revolve
around the sun full circle:
the blossom may yet ripen into fruit.
Our sorrows are like frost on a blossom;
pain, both fleeting and final.
The blossom drops without bearing fruit
and yet, let the earth revolve
around the sun full circle:
the blossom may yet ripen into fruit.
