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.


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