The late rose, br Glowing with sun tints, making pink lips tipsy, br This afternoon to open finally chose. br br Thrown into tizzy, br I stand at the gate – so strange! - to note br That clouds over the streets do float and float. br br I catch sight, quickly: br The dew shakes a white dress - which chum? br Oh no! ... Springtime has here so long come. br br Unintentionally br My hair has grown grey br Together with time that passes fast away.