“When torment tears me inside, And I sense autumn as a melancholic rain, There I wonder, what shall I do with the grief so dense? So I say to this soul of mine, This earth I love, will reveal new pathways. And so I open as a flower in the scent of rain, Make music out of memories that remain. I climb to the peaks, kissing the sky, Longing to speak of the strength they hold, I rush to the rivers, melodious in flow, And sense music in the ripples, when wild winds blow. I search for the stars when the night spread over earth, Unafraid of dark, looking up at the sky. When morning laughs lazily over the meadows, The daffodils I watch, spreading gold on the fields. When time rolls by and sunset kisses the sky, I fill my soul with the cup of crimson. When night steals the earth, and darkness comes down, The memories I weave, into the flowers of light.”