Flowers of spring that born in winter,
feelings of love carried by hate,
a stark night and a storm-clouded day,
may be all these I have got left,
your smile is no more
and all else is dead.
The tears of a weeping woman,
the joy of a proud man,
what else is important if your love comes to an end?
In a spring cold as winter,
in hate harder than stone,
just the place where your heart grows cold,
and just the feelings I desire to abhor,
flowers whithering cold as ice,
and roses blooming in lonely darkened nights,
what else is there to behold when darkness covers it all?
Eyes of joy blurred with sadness,
a heart that beats, succumbed in happiness,
no rational thoughts, the wind blew them into cold.
Stained walls in memory,
and love hand in hand with disgrace.
A summer night bringing perfumes of old,
scent of dead roses alive no more,
my mind trying to escape
but all open paths leave nowhere,
dark and white feelings, winter-spring nights,
love being love by hate in all its might,
and a warm embrace cold as ice.
Love gives birth to hate,
their words summon joy and disgrace,
tears flow here and there,
tears of sorrow entwined with content,
winter embracing spring,
your kiss once more,
makes me die within...
RQ
Moscow
5/6/10
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