I suffer with you, my precious bird,
My little bird who will never sing.
Who will never see the golden sun, And never hear the sweet bells ring.
It’s not fair for one so dearly young,
To not see all the colors of the sky.
I wish you could see ocean waves, That you could hear a breeze’s sigh.
Oh, I would trade my life for yours,
For you to know nature’s splendor. Thus to see a flower-filled meadow,
To hear a peaceful river’s slumber.
But life and destiny were never fair,
As it’s your fate to be who you are.
And so you’ll never see white snow,
Nor hear melodious music from afar.
It would be so enchanting to you, To see a silver moon wax and wane. But you can’t see a star that shines,
Nor hear the soft patter of the rain.
With all my heart, I hoped for you,
Hoped and dreamed you were healed. Alas, despite my love, it cannot be,
For nothing can be so wholly ethereal.
I cry for you, my precious little fox,
Why does fate have to be this way? The beauty of the world is hidden, You’ll never know night from day.