A butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.
I have spent many days stringing and unstringing my instrument while the song I came to sing remains unsung.
We gain freedom when we have paid the full price.
The world speaks to me in colors, my soul answers in music.
Do not blame the food because you have no appetite.
The song I came to sing remains unsung to this day. I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my instrument. The time has not come true, the words have not been rightly set; only there is the agony of wishing in my heart . . .