A faint sound of instruments playing,
With an elegant chime of a lyrical voice,
Beckons me as I walk the garden in spring.

I wear white clothes, slowly they turn red with blood,
Blood and pain from the voice I hear sinks deep in me.
The tears fall, my tears worth to make rivers,
My words are countless, words to raise the dead are conveyed.

I slowly walk towards the source of this heartbreaking song,
I walk past fragrance of jasmine and swaying tulips.
In front of me comes a wide lake glimmering in blue,
In the middle of the...