Some people love her shyness,
Some coveted her femininity.
Some took her first kiss when she was almost lost;
Some stay to marry her in the extreme predicament.
She was a goddess of childhood, glorious;
Now become the withered flower, wilting.
But in my opinion, she is nothing:
For being unable to detach from life,
Or can’t turn dreams into everything, she—
At least, in my opinion