Row your wooden boat in this lake compose of lava
The greenery has become a dancing sea of scarlet
The hill overflows with magma
From the roots to the fruit it was toasted
The entire area was covered with thick smoke.
Dip your lantern to start the fire
Direct your coarse! Don’t let the flow take you to Styx!
The shadow that I can’t find is about to be born
The mist wet the surface the dew is on the tip of the leaf
I wonder if like the dew, am I the first tear that it can’t stop from falling.
Or the last drop before the night says its goodbye?