What is the meaning of our life
if we are but a mist that quickly goes away
like a rose that blooms but for a day
What does it matter then that we have
ever passed this way?
Whatever happens
to the smiles we have smiled
to the tears we have cried
Whatever happens
to dreams we dreamt and reached
to failures that turned out bitter-sweet
Whatever happens to raindrops that fell
if thou shall not rise again towards heaven
and be made purer than it has ever been
Whatever happens
O whatever happens
if thy fallen soul
shall not be redeemed
Yea by now I can only pray
I can only believe
that everything is not meaningless
that there is reserved a destiny
even for a withered flower
even for mist that quickly goes away