Flowers are not born here
But they are brought here
Into this garden of stone
By the sobbing hearts that mourns

All men, good or bad, rich or poor
Will always have to come here
To repose under the same shade
Leaving behind things they have made

Love and hate, joy and sorrow
Greed and jealousy, fear and pain
All emotions of the same face
Lies buried in that little space

No dreams no nightmares
In the eternal sleep of theirs
No mornings will thy see
But sleep forever in peace

An object of past are they
Memories of their earthly years
Nostalgia of the wistful minds
Among the dust that remains

The tiring journey has ended
The time to rest has come
This is what the garden says
To all the heart that mourns and wails