Outside the rain keeps falling On foul soil, dying snow Melting and transforming to waters made of woe Grey clouds brewing idle the trees can not withstand What is dead and gone by is mixing with the sand... ...In the gutter of this spring Inside the days remain in a dim and lightless paint and with the naked branches the sun did not acquint What is dead and gone by and did not yet begin is flowing to my hand from the gutter of this spring
Outside the rain keeps falling On foul soil, dying snow Melting and transforming to waters made of woe Grey clouds brewing idle the trees can not withstand What is dead and gone by is mixing with the sand... ...In the gutter of this spring Inside the days remain in a dim and lightless paint and with the naked branches the sun did not acquint What is dead and gone by and did not yet begin is flowing to my hand from the gutter of this spring
