White flowers,sweet basil,scent of a basil...shall be silently the moments-white doves.
It seems that the memories as dreams... shall be,white flowers,sweet basil.
White flowers,sweet basil,braided from a ray of light in twilight,the clouds,...shall be.
At twilight ,when sun kissed the stones...shall be.
In twilight,white clouds
they gather their vestments,with scent of a basil.
Yarn flimsy...white flowers,sweet basil,spread by the wind...it seems,
will sit on the leaves for the night which shall pass.
Some of them will redden,will wilt,it will tighten through the branches,
as an outdated parchment hidden in mystery.
In flight-white dove,
slightly knocking with a wing and pierce my heart...it seems,
that memories as dreams...shall be white flowers,sweet basil,scent of a basil.
