It is the search for a feeling that probably never existed. One that takes you into the warmth of solitude. That’s what you think you’re missing, it’s unexpected, The unbearable, and he’s so beautiful. There’s nothing you can reproach him, he sounds and shines so harmoniously. A scent of violets caresses this dream of a lifetime. Drops strike cheering the darkness of your soul, Armed with tears, they have no lover. They clash to forget each other preciously. When are you going to decide to pass over time, To their winds, and talents. For they have love only for that, the mirror. They’re far too stubborn to look into it; To pierce time, to train it until they feel no more of its evils. The bottom will be heard and there will be no more words. They leave singing to stop flying away and dance while talking to evacuate, For they only mourn the period, manipulating them to take over by shouting; Where are you, where are you resting? That’s what these violets are for, I’m so obsessed with this feeling that I don’t want a tomorrow. What are you doing?