What a glorious time, 

From which happiness used to emit.

Now it's a shared misery.

One with despair and anguish.

How I miss the past years

From which I could spend time with you.

But now it's all gone.

Withered away, lost.

Even the flowers become withered,

from the harsh snow and ice.

Even they cannot survive it.

If they had the strength, will, passion

to survive, would they?

Would they want to strive?

Would they want to make people happy? 

They probably try, but people are cruel.

People take away happiness.

They rip off the pedals with anger 

like what words do to saddened people.

What seems to be a gentle breeze

Is a violent gash that runs deep.

The shining sun, a calming warmth

Is really a blinding glare.

Oh spring 

What a glorious time, 

From which happiness used to emit.