An elderly women sat next to me,
I could smell her decay, her withering scent;
On the other side sat a maiden fair,
whose scent was as sweet as could be.
A flower in bloom, a flower soon to pass;
Should I sense the decay of the blossom?
Or the sweetness of a bud bygone?
All bodies spring forth, bloom and decay;
All souls take grip and too soon release;
No perfume can hide the scent that I smell,
For it is the smell of Life itself.