In that distant world of the afterlife, when we walk in the sunshine, if we meet by chance, I think I will stop in surprise.
I will see those burgundy eyes, which have turned into morning stars by then, but I will also feel that these eyes once belonged to the night sky of a past life that was ignored by memory.
I will suddenly realize that the charm of your face is not entirely your own brilliance. In an unrememberable encounter, it stole the passionate light from my eyes...
This is the last gift he gave me. However, where should I treasure it to avoid the trampling of time?
Must twilight drown out this glimmer of pain, just as it dissolves the last rays of the setting sun?
On a shy summer night, when the breeze blew a mighty whisper from the silence, I sat on the bed, mourning the loss of her who was right next to me. I asked myself: "When will I have another chance to whisper to her in words with eternal rhythm?"
Intention: