SPRING

Where is that little boy,
which is the laughing eyes
broke a flower meadow
summery.
Where is the little girl,
which tasted of strawberries
a wooded meadow.

Hidden in my soul,
all the unnecessary memories below.
Below is the scar of the wound,
which I do not know how to tie.
Time to grow up is to grow to grow,
time is spring,
happiness, and of love in the world.

Towards the summer, visit the fairies road,
on the wings of wet air
sometimes painful lie.
Time has burst into bloom willow,
time to grow grass on the villae.
Time is a lot different,
the scent of myrrh,
from different countries.

The smell of something
brought by the wind,
I stare at the fusible
channel bed.
Spring rocking,
it will come to get it
seagulls on the wings of the ride.