Oh, her face that’s worth a thousand flowers.
Her heart that’s worth a thousand springs.
I couldn’t contemplate how much I’ve longed for her.
The sad girl in which the blue moon sings.
Singing I love her, Singing I miss her—
What’s the point of living with my Icarus wings?
Where it is only in my dreams that I can worship the sun—
Freeing half of my soul on fire, and a thousand broken things.
Someday I will meet her in a place between love, sadness, and healing.
A blossoming field where I’ll give her a thousand golden rings.