I
plucked your
flower, O world!
I
pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked.
When
the day waned and it darkened, I found that the flower had faded, but
the pain remained.
More
flowers will come to you with perfume and pride, O world!
But
my time for flower-gathering is over, and through the dark night I have
not my rose, only the pain remains.