My love, my rose, how fair thee used to be,
Thy petals velvet soft, thy fragrance sweet ambrosia to me.
Yet time and illness like a cankerworm within,
Have eaten away thy beauty, thy bloom begins to thin.
...
I set my foot on the heart of the dead,
The cold, lifeless heart that once throbbed.
Gone are the dreams, the love, the tears shed,
...