You say my voice careless your ear,
While you lend me yours;
You say there’s a seed sprawling down there yonder
Light rimming our shadows;
Your heart stand there yonder.
 
You say my hand touches your wing,
While you give me yours;
You see there’s a flower blooming in the river yonder
Color intruding our minds;
Your silhouette stands there yonder.
 
You ask what will become of me
When the seed wither
And the flower turn to dust
 
I say
The seed wither only when a flower bloom
The flower sheds dust over
Ophelia’s still beating heart.
The river flows on
and our spirit flows on yonder.