Wear, lonely, old roses
between snow and cold, and my way is
far.
For the same path
with a sword over his shoulder,
he goes behind me with his cloak
cloudy.
walks and knows
that snow had been trampled, and that there
extinguished the last sunset,
for me out there that night
happens,
freedom I seek. Where
find shelter,
so late.
roses fall into the snow melted.
Tears fall in the snow scarlet. Missing
fatally,
I can not help.
He
unnecessarily trample the roses in the snow.
.
.
.
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