What do the brooks flow for in spring time
If you spend an evening not with me?
And behind the window the fragment left by the moon
Is laughing at me.
You don't know how slowly and routinely
The unsent lines burn in fire.
You will probably never see them,
I write and burn them only in the night.
I will hide emotions when I meet you.
In your eyes I will see the pieces of ice that don't melt.
I know you wait for tears of my sorrow,
But you won't see a tear.
How difficult it is to look undifferent
To your words and dates not with me.
I am already accustomed to your cold gaze,
But I'm frank only with the moon.