On her every little fingertips –
there pours the rain.
And within her delicate palms –
there lives the sun.
How else could flowers grow ?
Ever since the moment
her hand found mine,
Spring struck my barren heart,
Replacing each lifeless twine
with purple, flowery vine;
Forever entangled in love.
Wind howls, and sends a chill through me.
But the Spring – your Spring – is still inside my heart.
With all of it’s joyful colours.
And even though it’s now winter inside your heart,
Spring will come – our spring – will eventually come.
Because no matter how many times
Those people cut all the flowers inside your heart,
They can’t keep Spring from coming.