Why doth she mourn for decades of dying orchids?
"She mourneth for vain", he sayeth,
And he mourneth for her sadness.
"Doth he mourn for vain?", his angel of celestial realms
asketh.
But I, I do not know how I shall answer...

And yet, I do not wish to be him.

To blackened skies I suffer,
Only to help thee find thy hidden mirth.
Since thou art the silvery moon,
Amidst these blackened skies to which I suffer...

Thou shalt fade between my arms...
So shall thy magnificent grace,
For which I once longed,
Beyond the boundaries of mortal time...
So why is the pale vision of thy downcast eyes,
All I ever endure at my solitude?

To withered leaves I sing my despondent lament,
Only to behold once again thine apparition of beauty,
Since thou art the blooming rose,
Amidst these withered leaves to which I sing this lament...

Thou shalt perish inside my dreams...
So shall thy shadow-piercing smile,
Which I once dwelled only to witness,
Above all other earthly needs...
So why is the mortal piercing of thine aura of frost,
All I ever imbue within my heart?

To blackened skies I suffer.
To the sight of my eclipsed moon I cry.
I yearn for the day when we shalt soar up high,
Towards moonlit heavens...
When my soul shalt become pure,
When crystal dew shalt water withered leaves,
When I shalt endure thy downcast eyes no more,
When blackened skies shall be cleansed of ashen grief...

And yet, until that day cometh, I shall be him.