Still I see your eyes of soot,
Clearly offers a handshake was sincere in
Then the story is etched in the hearts of friendship called diary

Comrade,
I remember talk that played from our lips
when the moon offer dim,
When offering the blazing sun,

when skies are offering different colors
when the birds are offering such a beautiful song of the soul heaven
our memory until dissolved and reluctant to turn away

to this day
still see soot in your eyes
still clear when we first shook hands
but we must go home
the leaves are still green is not similar upheavals we?

we are not a tattered diary because separation is not the end of memory,
but the door to the room called the ideal
when I’m hungry for love,
gulp his love of the memory in your friendship soot