When cherubims of summer

rained upon me with white petals,

the old cherry tree cried.

My arms embraced the branches,

a gentle twig kissed my forehead,

and then I blossomed.

But angels lost their patience,

so, to remind me of my foolishness,

they painted storms into my eyes.

I cannot stay, no more…I whispered,

while ice fell from a frozen heaven,

freezing all of my summer dreams.

Dead branches in my white, thin arms…

where are you, cherubims of summer?

Bring him to life, my cherry tree!

Upon a frozen land, mercy was rising,

so, from its perfumed tears-stained wood

they sculpted their harps.