I would bloom as a flower one spring,
On the long branches of a cherry tree.
The sun would kiss, the wind would brush,
And I'll slowly come out of the bud.
For all the innocent children who would jump to pluck,
I might lower my neck, but quickly glide back
For all the butterflies who would come to taste,
I might give my honey, not my colours.
And the summer would come and the sun would scorch,
But those innocent children would water my life.
Winter would follow and the snow would fall on,
But those butterflies would keep me warm always
And slowly would the autumn come,
This time but I would be carried away on a heap of fallen flowers.