Life isn't fair
Life is not beautiful
The old man whines
Life is melancholic
And a broken poem too
Life is to die
And is all about to cry
For the dejections and all the rejections
Life is melancholic, a broken poem
The old man whines, then he retires
There a boy comes in his dream
A little sweet boy
With bright blue eyes
And ginger red hair
Sitting under the orange tree
And staring at the sky
The tree blossoms after the night's shower
With its fragrance all in the air
The boy giggles
As the wind tickles
Sings the song of life
That the man thought, was lost forever
Do not whine, come to me
Let us sing together the song of joy
At the man said the boy
Then he touches and kisses the man's hand and the dream vanishes
The man wonders
Who the boy was
In the sky, he saw a cloud
With a silver lining around
To his surprise the man realized
The tree is still there at his yard
With all its fragrance in the air
And the boy?
The boy was just the little him
Realizing which makes him to grin
The old man now sits under the tree
That blossoms after the night's shower
With its fragrance all in the air
This is happiness, he says
This is life, he says
This is what love is
Says the old man, the boy smiles at him
And there begins this story, with
The boy, the man and an orange tree.
