[Instrumental] Beneath the sun’s warm, golden light, a maiden walks in linen white. Her fingers brush the daisies fair, as soft as clouds in summer air. She plucks a bloom with tender care, and whispers to the petals there: "Love me – love me not," she sighs, while hope and doubt dance in her eyes. As one by one, the petals fall, a fragile fate, so sweet, so small. Not seen, the last one parts its stem. And ere, a voice calls out – a hum. [Instrumental] Her cheeks grow bright as roses’ hue, her heart aflutter, swift and true. With shy delight, she meets his gaze, and hands the daisy, stripped of praise. No more the flower speaks in vain – its answer blooms in love’s refrain. For in his hand, though bare it be, it whispers, "Love me – endlessly."
