The Flower That Didn'T Bloom

I see the stars falling in shame, The heart knows their helplessness, But can't stop the immortal flow of the river of dreams. My love, don't mourn the death, But rejoice the birth, As few bloom, friends of dreams that are. Doesn't your heart cry out mourning? Even the moon is ashamed of its wet face, Will my absence even spark the candle of memory? My love, in absence of the flower of life, Where will the dreams bloom? In absence of the spring's song, The heart sings the song of winter. But this love is so tender, Don't banish the young bird from life, Let it adorn the bright jewels of winter. My love you are the virgin of the skies, But the heart is the groom of the land, How shall I leave such a sacred marriage? Oh love, don't leave the marriage so sacred, But deceit is the only saviour of thy live, Like the blue water that still flows. The flowers of identity may remain latent, But they will surely bloom one day, When the river's secret no longer stays so. But my love, this love is the fruit of a colorful dream, There is no hope of meet of the land and the sky, They were born separate and shall die separate. No my love, they aren't so different, are they? Born of the same horizon, They were born with an embrace, And shall die with an embrace. Separated by the wind of ego, They meet in the chaos, And separate in the stillness. Don't soak those cheeks my love, Let this night live on as a dream, A testimony of a flame that burned high, There's no fear now, Everything will be all right, Everything will be all right.