Strelitzia is my name,

A distant legacy to the green banana flames,

A beautiful bird in flight I display,

In every house, I always have my own way.

A hooded figure struts along the cobblestoned street,

A mask covers his or her face, one no one has even seen,

Embroidered with tales of reckless bloodshed, betrayals, and wars,

The impulsive reckonings of men and women long gone.

The story begins when I stepped through into the world of kindergarten,

Never did I expect that languages would be that much of a concern,

Mandarin was my starting point,

The title of “most difficult subject” I would soon anoint,