In this world of thorns and roses
Deception creates reality's balance
Here lies a cup stemmed from overflowing greed
Rather cage the bird than watch it fly.
In this form claimed to know well
With all the strong gusts and small breezes
Rest here now
Do not lose sight of the mountains.
Enclosed are the remnants of the garden
In these hands lie the builder and the destroyer
Even in the winter snow
There always remains a red rose.