The rose of winds don’t wither,
But we have chosen a rain.
Woke up. Forgot. It’s easy...
But we are devout to pain.
Sometimes the fate is sounding:
«resign oneself to time...»
A touch to sea of minds
We’ll never be define.
So after us it will became an eternal,-
Its return to origin of love.
The hearth at hearts will sink in the ocean,-
Its return to origin of life.