The yellow sunflower in a garden of roses;
The sun of summer, a muslin gold.
Faces the sun, the others don't bother;
On the same green grass, in the same brown soil.

Yet they differ,
In the carpels they hide.
Twice it lives than the radiant roses;
One for fourteen, the others for seven.
A week or two,
(Are) their distinct lives.

Yet they put them
In the same gray bouquet,
To rot and die
Than in the same brown soil.