Don't expect too much out of the love

It's just like a flower blossomed instant

Somewhat an orchid bloomed by tune

It will fade back to its before late or soon

To face the wind and to bathe the rain 

Or tragically to taste even more pain

It grows more astringent spot

But more like burning wood

It needs both wind and firewood

To make it burning and to sense its hot

Don't expect too much out of the love

Nor decorate it with any more illusion

It’s not the birds flying in the heaven

Nor dance the butterflies like a queen