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The Echo of Summer's End
Love so sweet, the ghost of summer now whispers in the past,
The passion of the air lingers in the deep fragrance;
Sorrow and rage no longer find a place to express themselves,
Only the true heart that beats in silent abundance.
Swiftly, over each one, the tender fires dim and fade,
Pointing the way to the love within your soul;
Daybreak in the morning or the shadow of a distant cloud,
All that is love, beyond reach, beyond control.
For day turns once more into the dark of night,
And everything offers something of value;
It declares itself through thorns and a heart full of wisdom,
Slashing around, love from seed to birth.
Conquer each truth from the hidden feelings,
The routes and the maps emerge from inside.
In the depth of night, among the shadows of memories,
I lose myself in an unbroken stream of thoughts,
Where metaphors intertwine with the whispers of the wind,
And each verse carries my soul back to the lost summer.
Love, so sweet, has vanished into yesterday,
Leaving behind only the echo of its deep fragrance;
Sorrow and rage no longer have a place in this corner of the world,
Only the true heart, still beating in its silent abundance.
The tender fires of each moment swiftly dim,
Pointing the way to the depths of your soul;
Daybreak in the morning or some distant cloud,
All that is love remains inaccessible, beyond control.
For day turns again into the night,
And each thing has its own value to offer;
It declares itself through thorns and a heart full of wisdom,
Slashing around, love from seed to birth.
Conquer each truth from the hidden feelings,
The routes and the maps come from the depths of the heart.
In this stream of consciousness, I find my solace,
Knowing that each memory of the lost summer
Is a part of me, a thread in the tapestry of my soul,
A story of love and melancholy,
A tale of loss and rediscovery,
Where each metaphor is a bridge
To the true heart, still beating
In its silent abundance.
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