I was a child. I remember I was once

picking wild roses.

They had so many thorns.

I didn’t want to break them, though.

I thought that they were buds,

and they would bloom.

Then I met you.

Oh, so many thorns, so many thorns you had!

I didn’t want to strip you of them, though -

I thought they’d bloom.

Today all these are passing

in front of me and make me smile.

I smile and wander through the valleys,

playful, against the wind.

I was a child.