Rose's Illness

I see my hair Falling down like petals What will remains Are thorns Am I withering? With the sap of my loved ones I will hold my life as roots in the earth and I will not surrender to winter My skin is graying An empty hole like a desert And neither are left My tears Am I withering? With the sap of my loved ones I will hold my life as roots in the earth and I will not surrender to winter With the sap of my loved ones I will hold my life as roots in the earth and I will not surrender to winter