The song of the nightingale

I don’t care much about the present
Never asked someone for the past
I know above my grave in the future
Wilde flowers or thorns will grow at last

Fine is the beam of the moon that shines
The sun rays will shine again
A butterfly will visit me sometimes
Together we will drink in a cup some rain

That’s why I don’t care much of today
Nothing will be able to change my tomorrow
I love the scandals which grow this way
And for such of scandals I do not have sorrow.

I know there will be a nightingale
Singing the sad song of the wind
Will fall some drew early morning
To tell to the flowers what did it mean

Written by Leonard Seiti