The boy died before long. The days of the bright spring had almost matured into the fullness of summer when his melancholy pain overcame him. It was too long, his sister explained. He had been away from his precious land for too long, and his body crumpled in sympathy with his tormented body, still as leafy green as his sister’s blossomed into that of a young girl’s flower.
I didn't say there was much, did I? I might be leaving something out but you get the idea.