A lady with an empty heart;
A garden of rose mallows;
All the bees had left the hurt;
The lady got lost in the shadows.
Floral leaves of the crimson charm
Dried up in the sorrow.
All the bees had left the dorm,
When honey, no more, soaked the flower.
They cherished the lady when the honey flowed,
Then perished her petals when she lost her goal.
Now glitters the newly bloomed white rose
And act as if the mallow was never known.
Will the sun ever peek
Where the dark clouds roam?