In cold mornings
filled with pain,
no path ahead,
they move without strain.
And the desolate and the forgotten
stay behind,
due to the pain that their beloved
could not hold in her isolated morning.
No longer day or night,
only eternal tears,
that do not seem to end,
but the day of the beloved one
returns in a hurtful silence.
What about your warm mornings?
Now without light, they wander
through the haze, without
a fixed path, like the dry morning.\"