As lovebirds shew affection for its mate in the wild,
I ponder of thy loving arms that embraced;
With a love so chaste and soothfast
doting with little knowledge.
Now I find myself laying by the meadows secluded.
An abnormal love for night I turned,
And indite these lines alow descending night.
Yet so fond of solitary moon so wane,
saw a shooting star luminously explode.
And makes a wish unto thee,
Of your pilgrim soul’s arrival hither hills
Where we once grew in aroha
And played by the shrubs therewithal,
Your vigor wherefrom you’d catch me a ladybird,
Moments we went berrying,
And passed valleys for quest unknown,
And youthful we reached by the hills
Whence you depart somewhither;
With nothingness left in me to grin.
And these I wish upon the shooting star,
‘’A damsel wait for her swain be met”,
Yet I know of your nihility as I turn grey.