In the other room
With flowers which bloom
A ghost who cries, with teal-green eyes
Simple as the fresh smell of snow and mist

Is that you? As time is lost
within eternity, a mist of absence
A broken stone of tranquil freedom
The sunsetting burns deliquent frost

And in this ghost, are you asleep?
She cries and I know, very deep
inside, that I have lost, my ability to weep
For I know nothing but to sew and reep