Tall fir trees on a quiet night,
on a sandy alley, a mossy road.
I look for your name on every cross,
I hope I won't find it.
Wax tears and golden angels
on fir wreaths withered long ago
the wind has left white ribbons of knots,
in the shade of branches, on marble slabs.
The playing of violins can be heard from afar.
The roads have been cleared, h ¤maral alley
Strangers may you grow taller
kiss you with the scent of lilacs
All 2x

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS