It is the returning time
you greet yourself
in your own mirror,
the barricade of your own heart.
You will love
again to that melody
who knows you thouraughly.
Breathing again
the desperate hymns
of the sun rays on streams
as breath of breath and pulse of pulse.
It is the season of speaking
from the silence
of withered willows
of half-burned wishes.
Yeah, coming back
again to the smiles of solitude
of memories,
of sweet hopes of solace,
too sweet,
too bitter sweet of paradise
of awakening nest in chest.
you greet yourself
in your own mirror,
the barricade of your own heart.
You will love
again to that melody
who knows you thouraughly.
Breathing again
the desperate hymns
of the sun rays on streams
as breath of breath and pulse of pulse.
It is the season of speaking
from the silence
of withered willows
of half-burned wishes.
Yeah, coming back
again to the smiles of solitude
of memories,
of sweet hopes of solace,
too sweet,
too bitter sweet of paradise
of awakening nest in chest.







