I plucked your flower

I plucked your flower, O world!

I pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked.

When the day waned and it darkened,

I found that the flower had faded,

but the pain remained.

More flowers will come to you

with perfume and pride, O world!

But my time for flower-gathering is over,

and through the dark night I have not my rose,

only the pain remains.