Clinging to memories like leaves on trees;
In autumn, let them fall and rest to bed,
As a mind on regret cannot be free,
For if I worry they will wreck my head.
They cut deep like words from a loved one,
Nesting themselves in your very fabric,
Waiting for a moment to sing a song
Which vibrates to your very being, so tragic.
But you must dance with fate and meet your doom,
For within it is the beauty of Daphne:
Opium of the gods, so do not gloom,
Be joyous and happy for what now you see.
What lies in your mind is all poetic,
Deny this fact and live to regret it.
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