How sweet is the taste of life;
The colors, the smells.
They dance and sing, compelling hearts to joy.
Oh young hearts, their whims and clear eyes.
How certain they are of themselves.
The wind teaches them to fly,
They soar, and cannot believe they’ll ever fall.
Oh! Prideful Fate!
These hearts are not of hate!
But yet, when the trouble befalls them
They sing no more
The colors go black
The wind no longer allows them to soar
And life is no longer sweet
And so the mist overtakes their joy
Because so oft is this trouble self caused.
And their life; Fate’s toy.
The casket is filled.
The candles are lit.
The eyes will never be clear again.