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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2002-04-19 | [This text should be read in romana] |
Cause I was sad, the night was high,
the moon was purely white, your eyes were crying, couldn’t stop their storm. And it began to rain: the clouds were grey and full of sadness, their thoughts were mine. I had to leave, I had to go to war, to kill, to wound, to die, to run in hell without my love. I had to leave you to another one. It rained that night – the mud was golden, moisture was the king of land. Cause you were broken in two small pieces, like heart which left from near you. Remember, but, that I will not forget you, your soul will always be in me. The rain will be named as „theft” because it rained all night the day I left.
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