| Two whole years, after that last breath you took in my arms
|
| Two whole years have passed and I could only write two lines
|
| Don't think I left and went, throwing soil on it...
|
| Tell me how does death smell
|
| The world makes me tired without you
|
| If you don't come, it will hurt me
|
| The world asks you every day
|
| Tell me how does death smell
|
| The days get longer because you're gone
|
| The world asks you every day, I don't answer...
|
| I'm sure you saw me when I came to you today
|
| 'Cause when I came near you I'm sure I saw you
|
| I thought a lot as I walked home crying
|
| Do you know? |
| You made me sad for the first time in my life
|
| These eyes that shine in your arms are now dark
|
| All the flowers that bloomed while you were there have withered away now
|
| My arm wing is broken and I have narrowed
|
| But I thought your laughter wouldn't stop
|
| It's empty, the time you've filled your sleep
|
| And you're on that balcony where you wait for me every time I look
|
| You're on my mind with the last smile you left
|
| I know it's true but it's so hard to remove it
|
| Your white hair is still hidden in my drawer
|
| I haven't turned up the music since you left
|
| My hands write, but my funeral is already up
|
| Forgive me
|
| I miss your voice the most, and listening to me from you
|
| You used to love watching me from the window on the way to work
|
| The day an angel brazenly came and asked me for you, I said no
|
| However, he took it and left without listening.
|
| The songs you forgot while still singing in this house
|
| And forgive, this is the first song I wrote for you
|
| I'm as weak as the first day you got mad at me
|
| As guilty as the first day you got mad at me
|
| It was like your hair was always white, your heart was always clean
|
| You said enough was enough and you were leaving and you were very tired.
|
| It was suddenly evening, I held them tightly
|
| You smiled and held my hands as if to say goodbye
|
| You kept silent to me when death was read from your eyes
|
| On the other hand, I would breathe fire at the end of the bed and keep silent for you.
|
| I know that I was always hurt for the first time and I was always a child
|
| I'm getting old now you're still my dear woman |