Open your flowers for me this evening,

And greet me with a kiss,

A blessed spring on rocks crashing

My thirst to satisfy.

Amid branches spread with green

Let butterflies ascend to heaven,

And spongy moss beneath my feet.

Will function as a mattress.

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The heat will burn hotter and hotter,

As days elongate each moment,

My forehead drenched in sweat admiring,

The foaming waterfall on barren hills.

As rain clouds try to gather,

The sunbeams pierce them straight,

The world still yearns for moisture -

But time has not yet come.

The afternoon turns green to gold,

Amidst swaying fields of grain,

Handled by hands before me

That stretch out from the clock.

Tucked deep between dead branches,

Two crows stare at my window,

And marble eyes keep staring,

At me, spread on my bed.

Shrouded in dagger icicles,

The crone sways the moon,

Preserving our bodies in slumber,

Frozen beneath steel sheets.

The stream has turned to stone,

The moon - a sickle of diamond

And moss - preserver of life,

That covers our bodies in warmth.