My love for you is an Amaranth
Never dying, never fading.
Yet plucked from the stem
Its spirit once resplendent
Has now faded and begun to die.
My Amaranth, once fed by
The rich streams of nectar flow.
Pure, loving river, you are no more
Leaving rocks and hard, broken stones
as it stands in the unmerciful cold,
cursed by its imperishable immortality,
it dutifully awaits the merciful spring that will never