It is spring, And the ledger is opened again. From the abyss where they were frozen, those days suddenly return, those days that passed away from your lips, that died with all our kisses, unaccounted. The roses return: they are your fragrance; they are the blood of your lovers. Sorrow returns. I go through my pain and the agony of friends still lost in the memory of moon-silver arms, the caresses of vanished women. I go through page after page. There are no answers, and spring has come once again asking the same questions, reopening account after account.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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