What would be the cost of a dozen flowers that life has given us,
would it be the blood that flows
out of the pricks
that the thorns have inflicted on us?
The charge of living a dreamy life among the stars,
will it be the sleepless nights
that are spent in their arms?
Why should everything be charged on bills of life,
Why should we be made to succumb?
What should I give in lieu of gifts bestowed on me,
should it be
the passing of my life
or the time that does not seem to fade away?