Death has made you majesty,
While I weep aloud melodies.
I once saw the weeping sky, and now,
I weep strewn tears to your closed lids.
I once brought my hand out an open window
To feel the droplets,
That sky has closed, along with yours.
A sky has been buried, and shut,
Your eyes, and above.
There is dew along the petals,
Droplets of rain, from a nighttime’s shower,
Yet, though they were Springtime showers,
Of those I could eagerly call myself,
They are the droplets of a cold November.
Skies as bleak as the evening this occurred,
When you puled, not alike yourself,
Though, wept alike me, alike the droplets of November.
My beauty, with your icy form.
Please become warm, wherever you are embraced.