the leaves wonder in the beard, what holds us back? what urges us?
here the cold creeps. in the evening, every evening
the helpless sun seems to say in pain
I\'m going to get colder and colder. little by little.
when you are no longer interesting you prepare yourself for death
the words are scattered, like leaves melted through gutters
forgetting erases the pain, you are like the aroma of almonds
and your wandering whisper, like a breath away
it is the course of the world, it is natural, only we offer desperate resistance
the river requires no mercy. he dies when he spills into the sea
the cloud does not weep when is watering the earth
because his tear is the hope of the dying seed...
if you are the equinox I will bloom solstice