May Buddha let us meet in my most beautiful hours,
I have prayed for it for five hundred years.
Buddha made me a tree
By the path you may take.
In full blossoms I'm waiting in the sun
Every flower carrying my previous hope.
As you are near,
The quivering leaves are my waiting zeal,
As you pass by the tree without noticing me.
Upon the ground behind you
Is not the fallen petals
But my withered heart.
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