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I come to a forgotten forgotten apple garden
That hasn't borne fruit for a long long time.
I've found a proper place like Arden
for thoughts that torment my soul and grime

And lo! At once all that was dying
Has started turning into beautiful shadows
The apples are glittering with the golden splendour
And smell like nothing ever swallows


I am not alone in this garden
I see thousands of souls
United in one outburst
To attain indivisible bliss
Even Principal Writer-of-the-Blessing is here

But gleamy Darkness tears my vision to pieces
and Golden juice pierces my eyes
I see nothing but rotting apples
Dry branches and grey skies...

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