Glowing past,
events of silver grapes,
hiding us:
Who we are,
where should we stay,
and how can we enter
the temple of May.

May, my spring heart,
blooming flowers of eternity
expressing time through chirping birds,
my loving songs of mended memories .

Memories, who I was,
not who I am.

Falling crystal secrets of our past
break as time ends my May,
summer comes, and circles become
who I was, not who I am,
as slowly I die.

May, my loving heart,
glowing stars of infinity,
expressing through peace,
our glory of love.

May is our internal spring, the place that unites us with love. The glowing grapes is what we believe is important, our memories and secrets of the past. At the end, who we are does not depend on who we believe we are… Why?