I look at you, your head tilt

And blue eyes facing the ground

A clear glaze is shining there

While I hear the tear-escaping sound

I'm staring at you; you're bleeding, I'm crying

And you slowly begin to rise

Your delicate blond hair, whipping in the wind

You know it's your fate, and will, to die.

Epilogue:

I'll write about you until the day after forever

Then, maybe, my poor, restless hear will get better

And maybe my black eyes won't get any wetter.