roses of May.
May you never
wither away on my head.
May I always wear
the crown so fair of a king
to reign over a never-ending spring.
May the horizon always bring
the sun in her arms each stroll
to watch upon the seeds.
Oh roses,
roses of a maybe
turning into yes;
from the earth you will raise
before each of my steps
and from the shadow, uncover
to the highest in the air.
I will walk on the ocean
and cross it all round
with my feet bare.
Oh roses,
roses of a maybe
turning into yes;
from the earth you will raise
before each of my steps
and from the shadow, uncover
to the highest in the air.
I will walk on the ocean
and cross it all round
with my feet bare.
