The doorbell rings,
The children run,
Within this spring
I find you in my veins.
You were born as a flower bud.
Between the sporadic light.
In cool autumn
Of sad leaves,
In the plain of the months,
I can not stop thinking about you.
Splattered by blood
Of eternal dreams.
Look at me one more time,
Tree branch,
Raise the leaves,
That resonate in your wood.