on the old garden path
lost her fan of white snow
winter, waiting for spring

It will rain through the night,
Guests will come very soon,
They are dead by sunlight,
They are light of the moon,


Someone’s  knocked at the door,
They have come, they have come,
Lights and darks on the floor,
All is right, all is done,


one of worlds is not true,
one of fears cannot spill,
Rain will cry all night through,
Nothing want, nothing feel.

in my soul garden
pink cherry tree blossoms
are full of spring breath

peony that never will bloom
on last shroud of melting white snow
winter embroiders in silk

a Sakura -girl
in silk haze is sleeping,
seeing April in dream.

I know, it cannot be love.
I know, I know, I know
that words, light as feathers of dove,
will melt like the last winter snow.

but who of us wants to deceive
the other in order to fly?
and why does heart want to believe
that next day will not make us cry?

'cause wings, that take us above,
become soon so useless to grow.
I know, it cannot be love.
I know. I know. I know?

Flow away from my heart by the sorrow,
Leaving in me the cry of night bird,
Swim through the time to the shore of tomorrow,
Near the day for choosing new world.


Go away and look for tomorrow,
Changing the thousandth mask for one role,
Don't only take the warmth of the swallow
Sleeping so light in the moor of my soul.


Flow away from my heart by the sorrow,
Leaving the trace of butterfly flame,
I'll never find the way for tomorrow,
Playing your game.