Things would become full of life again
and all the songs, time's arias
would follow as before to sustain
things hidden within us

If someone just shed that heaviness
which has imprinted our touch
and finishes sewing the coat's stitches
knowing now it doesn't hurt much

Just not to pull it on the body
as you are used to in the frost
wearing long sleeves when February
has brought love that tends to exhaust

Feel a touch where the cloth has left it
where there is the bare skin lying
where there is no place for a jacket
(it is too large for the living)