Classic Poem

I plucked your flower, O world!
I pressed it to my heart and the thorn pricked.
When the day waned and it darkened,
I found that the flower had faded,
but the pain remained.

More flowers will come to you with
perfume and pride, O world!
But my time for flower gathering is over,
and through the dark night I have not my rose,
only the pain remains.