‏I want to pull the poppies out of my
‏wounds and plant them to sprout because they are a lasting memory of my pains.
‏I water the seedlings by my teardrops and in my imagination they have turned into a tree that bears pearly fruit by mourning.
‏My red hair is a symbol of my bloody land, I take care of my hair and pearls, which to me are the messenger of freedom and peace, and I wish to create eternal peace over my land.