Dying garden
Through my window, I see the colorful leaves that never die.
Their souls in harmony with the time of their flight.
One day, I hear how they whisper to my fragile heart.
But I don't speak their peaceful language of art.
What do you desire, inhabitants of the tree in my immense...
Their souls in harmony with the time of their flight.
One day, I hear how they whisper to my fragile heart.
But I don't speak their peaceful language of art.
What do you desire, inhabitants of the tree in my immense...