the dead leaves
Oh, I wish so much you would remember those happy days when we were friends. Life in those times was so much brighter and the sun was hotter than today. Dead leaves picked up by the shovelful. You see, I have not forgotten. Dead leaves picked up by the shovelful, memories and regrets also, and the North wind carries them away into the cold night of oblivion. You see, I have not forgotten the song that you sang for me: It is a song resembling us. We lived together, the both of us, you who loved me and I who loved you. But life drives apart those who love, ever so softly, without a noise, and the sea erases from the sand the steps of lovers gone their ways.