I do not stand on the frozen streets,
as cold statues stand
those living there.
and do not like the scent of lilacs,
have long forgotten,
butterflies flying.
They do not love and do not talk about love,
a fiction was ... and had a limit,
by their ways of life,
other rules pass,
and overthrow their heavy backs.
When they have passed through their hearts,
without taking and giving love,
someday they see themselves
frozen butterflies,
cruel, deserted, and soulless -
to stay
And for others, they live,
with a sense of spring
and their souls long,
for love and flight!
Goodbye and Kisses ...