Lanbo Yang

In the abandoned dregs of life,

Lays the filthy scum and shredded plant,

Dread whispers and grief moans,

Everything is left to winter and decay.

But in the mist of gloomy oppression,

A wisteria vine begins to grow.

Delicate petals and leaves give rise to life,

To bring shining hope to darkness.

For nothing can be predicated,

And anything is possible.

If a rose can grow in an abyss,

Life can be born in death.