In a wonderland she sat,holding a decaying rose,
Blood rolled off its petals, splashing on the ground;
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."