Perhaps when we sang and played in spring,
we never imagined these leaves would start to fall,
or the mountains so majestic and tall,
would be covered with ice and snow,

The sun that shines with all that warmth ,
would only become a source of light,
the pavements then so dry ,
would turn all wet and covered in leaves,

Indeed we never knew in joy
that everything has a bitter end ,
so we could catch memories one by one ,
and later to each other send ,