I dreamt upon a perfect world,
Three figures in a row –
Their silent faces full of care
Spoke of love and woe –
Their flowers spun the thread of life,
Brutal and divine,
Glinting in the ever-sun;
A crooked path, a twisted line;
And when, so swiftly, it is cut,
We leave no mark or sign,
Except a memory of life –
And when we live, we shine…
Laid within the churchyard walls
Five hundred years ago,
I dreamt upon a perfect world
And that is all I know