A capricious spring breeze rippled through the leaves of the supple young trees, scattering dappled light across the field of fresh grass.

 

It was a picture-perfect, calm spring day. She headed out to make a crown of wildflowers.

 

What could possibly console a maiden who has lost her love? Not even the tender embrace of the sun, the song of a soaring skylark, or the delicate breeze that kisses her cheeks could soothe her feelings. Spreading the skirt of her floral dress over the grass, she picked the blooming flowers as her heart desired, scattering petals of various shades while doing so. Her garland was pitiful yet pretty, made of flowers to bid farewell to a forsaken love.

 

Rue, pansies, daisies, rosemary, fennel, columbine, rue again... Her faded lips kept mumbling the hidden messages of the alluring blooms.

 

My love, I reciprocated your feelings, but you didn’t reciprocate mine.

Now I regret falling in love with you.

 

Think of me, I kept asking in my head. I always thought that was what I truly wanted.

 

No one can tear off the dress of virtue that wraps my pure body.

I have an armor of quiet strength, a sword of strong will.

 

My flowers — do not shiver in the wind. I promise to make it mine.

Admiration beyond what words can express. The glory of an eternal life.

 

Sweet Robin, my dearest. Let me show you. I would never die for you; I’m going to live eternally.

 

As she sang and wandered around picking more flowers, she found herself at the bank of a stream. A slender, graceful willow tree gently swayed its long branches fringed with young and lacy yellowish-green leaves. Lured by the tree, the innocent girl approached the daisies, nettles, buttercups... and took a step forward to hang her garland — now also decorated with purple orchids — on the drooping arms of the willow. Oh, it was then, the nasty branches spurned her offer, letting her body slip into the water like the bunch of flowers tossed into the brook.

 

Her blonde hair undulated with the current of the water, its motion resembling the floating waterweed. Was she now a mermaid or a waterfowl that doesn’t feel the pain of one’s last moments? Her singing voice, containing a hint of joy, blended with the sound of trickling water while her flared-out dress radiated a dreamy luster. The beautiful dress, which looked like a colorful field of flowers, soaked up the water and became as heavy as lead, pulling the girl’s body and singing voice down to the riverbed.

 

Poor thing, what did she see with those jade-green eyes? In that ephemeral moment when the surrounding blue tone of the clear sky came rushing in. Slowly, the girl’s vision became hazy, then everything disappeared into the distance.

 

Don’t despair, Laertes. She finally gained her eternity.

 

Your sister will come back again and again in the future. Even long after you, I, and my son Hamlet have gone, she will still be here — quiet and strong.