It was meant to be our New Year's fish,
Meant to stay just a few days—no more, our guest.
Meant to bring joy to our home,
Meant to sing this melody till the end.
But our pact lasted a little longer,
And its end met teary eyes.
My heart trembled, my gaze turned dark,
To that fleeting moment when sorrow flowed in.
Our kitchen no longer echoes with joy,
For my eyes now mourn before this empty bowl.
Half my dreams were carried away with a sigh,
And my little fish, too, perished in the water.
It was noble, with crimson skin,
I shall never forget it—never.
Death is a simple, strange thing,
And our little red fish is no more.