The sprout of love.
I′m afraid of these words - I don′t need you anymore
And to hear in response that I am not needed either ...
From despair, we ourselves make souls worse,
And the wall grows between us every day.
Time seems to be playing against the rules
Every hour, bit by bit, adding sand.
Maybe you didn′t want to, but added pain to me ...
There is no melancholy - it′s just melancholy.
I would not lose heart, until spring there is not much.
I know that she is capable of curing the soul.
And then I will obey the Lord God,
That I could not save a sprout of love.
I′m not the only one to blame for this,
And sadness flows like wax from a candle ...
I regret that there is no soldier′s will in me,
But swords do not cut our feelings off the shoulder.