But weeds have come with time,
and the sun does no longer shine;
The garden has become a waste,
and it's fruits you did never taste;
A seed does lies dormant in the soil,
and still does the gardener toil;
The rains have ceased and it is cold,
because his love you chose not to hold;
But the seed did not die,
for still did the gardener try;
One did come and she gave him rain,
not the garden can grow again;
For her does a rose live,
and his love does he give.