In a wonderland she sat,holding a decaying rose,

Blood rolled off its petals, splashing on the ground;

Drip-drop, Drip-drop,

They fell upon the ground.

A raven soared above and monotonously called:

Fear is nothing but tales; aged and delirious,

Just like the cawing of an old crow,

The cawing of a crow.

Finally the bell chimed and wept tears of gold,

"This is not wonderland if there is no magic!"

But the Memory-child smiled at their horror;

"There is no magic, this is not wonderland."