Green and cold

 

We fall into the breast of the future, hand in hand, in my dreams, my love; 

We flee from the dusty labyrinths of yesterday's library, 

We have already read everything, drunk everything from thousands of years old copper vessels... 

I always allowed you to fly, as you wished, beyond what you desired, 

I never hindered you. 

Love is the child of freedom, because they are right, my love, 

You cannot imprison, while admiring the white wings of those infinitely numbered heavens you believe in again; your beloved... 

We fall into the breast of the future, hand in hand, in my dreams, my love; 

We no longer flee from yesterday... 

Your hand has fallen from mine, the coolness of your palm has left the fire born from the mountains in my hands... 

The trace of your hand remains on my fingertips, on the slopes of my palms, 

I have been smelling it for years, for years I have been taking your scent, your dreams, with me... 

We fall into the breast of the future, hand in hand, in my dreams, my love; 

A hundred years have passed since we last saw each other, 

A thousand springs have passed since your scent reached my nose and your green sprouts bloomed again within me... 

If only you had kissed me and buried me in your lips that day; if only you had been silent for a century, if only we had been silent for a thousand ages together... 

We are falling hand in hand into the breast of the future in my dreams, my love; 

And all tomorrows are afraid of us, 

Perhaps even of ourselves, my love... 

09:41 Green and cold, everywhere. 

* All time travelers, their journeys are lies, my love. 

Time is only escaping from us; catch it if you can, that's the only game... 

This half-century-long, endless search; this living, these efforts, this war; our struggle to capture a few beautiful feelings from the heart, from the most honest perspective, just like the spring butterflies we chased in our childhood; even if we can't catch them, we are very happy... and we know this, we are aware of it; 

Even though we never admit it to ourselves... Living is actually about this... 

Deep down, we always know this, we always knew it... 

Our rebellions started from this, from here, it always became a fire...