Your eyes resembles to merry child voices
It opens
Your eyes are the laterns of my sail
The leaf of my heart only trembles
for you willingly
My hands only sweat for you
Now let those angels sorrow over you
Keep the big and little clockhands
Even the most bitter wells inside me
Are tasty now
Sleeps are fairy tales, sleeps are bright yellow
Now is the most beautiful time of your autumn face
On the nights is a silver moon, on the songs is mey*
Oh your skin talks with mine, it wakes up
Sleeps are magic, sleeps are riddles
Now the rose is an ashed syllable for the thorn
The moon captured nights are embers in the heart
oh what does it help, the day is frosty
my skin chills your name