1 Before I fell into sleep you sworn to me that lines would be remembered in the morning Yet I woke up in your awe of blank as if you were soaked in the Heraclitus' river I should have trusted my hands more to carve the words onto the river bank though sometimes they would still be swept away by the river of time 2 I tried to have your revive my longing for desire but you care no more and say Each spring is not another spring Each winter is more like a winter 3. You occasionally wake up a few burning gazes a few young figures and tell me they would have been my blossoms that had so much potential to be blooming forever in your garden I told you they are even their petals were dried in the springs long ago |