Children's voices,
Distant and soft as
The first spring leaf you cherished so much. I think of you
Running across the park
That is filled from lake's edge to entrance gate
With dead and dying leaves;
And amongst the flowers of summer, searching
For the butterfly's heart
That you never found. But your childhood ended long ago;
The times when you sought the new-born bee's soul
Are over.
Our childhood's are over -
They finished like the summer that ended
In thunder-storms. Your smiles hide your secret grieving,
Your face carries reflections of sadness. You will still be my most beautiful image
Even in the winter of your life.
I will love you even when the butterfly's wing
Has melted like the dew on your cheek. | 
