May I be the sweltering sun hanging in April,
dispirited soul art seemed less cruel.
Smothering waves bring lives of the non-favored.
but so long a summer’s day have I impetrated.

Known that thou belonged to a temperate wintry bed,
With cineraria drifting from a bundle of light.
Peaceful, thine eyes shall close,
Wandering on a yellow bridge full of rose.

Oh, silent moans art very generous treasure,
For thee and the lovely swing with leisure.
I look at thy shadow, feeling furious and betrayal,
And I inquire the lily sister bout this question of loyal.

Shall I be the destroyer or the preserver?
Holy Jesus, I need another result rather than answer.