Refreshing winds from distant skies, a dying love from distant eyes. Another cruelty brought to me. And again a flower born and
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before it withers wind's whispers are blowing it away... Falling leaves from trees that died, a growing sadness becoming mine, but
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it's not time for leaves to fall and it's not time for dying at all... Clouds are sick of being dark, when sorrows must follow the
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last rain drops, but stay... Is lone the path to walk among the green, as with melancholy of the grey something faded away, but
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melancholy remained... I cannot... regret... In springtime the grey has the due to fade away but the days come grey again, with the
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season of grief in bloom cause in springtime the deaths are two.
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Springtime Deaths
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| Hortus Animae |
