A flower, knowing its fate, still blooms.
At it, life’s dangers are repeatedly hurled.
Would you be as brave even as the end looms?

Coveted for her beauty and perfumes,
she is born in the dark, under the world.
A flower, knowing its fate, still blooms.

Through rocky earth or sandy dunes,
she emerges hesitant, petals still curled.
Would you be as brave, even as the end looms?

She perseveres, spreading her plumes,
for all to see her glory unfurled.
A flower, knowing its fate, still blooms.

Constantly threatened by perilous dooms,
like a flag in the wind, her body is twirled.
Would you be as brave, even as the end looms?

Her being decays; the ground entombs
her wilted self where colors once whorled.
A flower, knowing its fate, still blooms.
Will you be as brave, even as the end looms?