There are still fingerprints on the flower leaves
|
The vase that is always fresh in this house
|
I still see your waking picture in the cold frame of my eyes
|
You are not, your voice is like a shadow with me
|
Still, the lonely owl neither cries nor sings
|
I believe that he knows you as if he is back
|
You were a new word for my poetry book
|
For the peak of my singing, you were my singing partner
|
But alas, this feeling was only in my chest
|
I did not understand that the friend's hand was the sharp weapon of the enemy
|
Still, the lonely owl neither cries nor sings
|
I believe that he knows you as if he is back
|
There are still fingerprints on the flower leaves
|
The vase that is always fresh in this house
|
I still see your waking picture in the cold frame of my eyes
|
You are not, your voice is like a shadow with me
|
Still, the lonely owl neither cries nor sings
|
I believe that he knows you as if he is back
|
You were a new word for my poetry book
|
For the peak of my singing, you were my singing partner
|
But alas, this feeling was only in my chest
|
I did not understand that the friend's hand was the sharp weapon of the enemy
|
Still, the lonely owl neither cries nor sings
|
I believe that he knows you as if he is back
|
There are still fingerprints on the flower leaves
|
The vase that is always fresh in this house
|
I still see your waking picture in the cold frame of my eyes
|
You are not, your voice is like a shadow with me
|
Still, the lonely owl neither cries nor sings
|
I believe that he knows you as if he is back |