Never looking back again, Loved more deeply than the birds. Even if it remains a bud, My lost love is a ghost. Loved, a deep red rose, Loved more deeply than anyone. Surely, in the memory of its scent, My lost love is a ghost. Loved, a deep red rose, Loved more deeply than anyone. Surely, its form overlaps. The suffering, withered rose, Hurt more than anyone. Even if buried in the ground, Etched in my heart, My lost love is a ghost. Loved, a deep red rose, Lived until it withered. Surely, its scent is even more vivid. Never looking back again, Loved more deeply than the birds. Even if it remains a bud, My lost love is a ghost. The suffering, withered rose, Hurt more than anyone. Even if buried in the ground, Etched in my heart, My lost love is a ghost. Loved, a deep red rose, Lived until it withered. Surely, its scent is even more vivid. Never looking back again, Loved more deeply than the birds. Even if it remains a bud, My lost love is a ghost.