the bell is silent for awhile nowthe love that runs through it is gone
the song that seeps in its pink lips
is mute and cares no more
the dew that drops at dawn is cold now
the water is poisonous, not good to drink
maybe tomorrow as this day will pass
the rain will wash away the dirt
who could tell that a new day will come again
who could say that the iris will bloom next year
who can say that it will be the same
not you, not me, nor they, nor others
the color of the bell is you
the drop of the rain is sadness
the shape of the bell means forever
as it toils each day, as it rings in our ears
as long as we live on this earth...
