Now I'm just feeling a taste of sadness in the air And everything seems to be drawn in aquarelle Soft blossom peers in the blue mirror of raw pools Young spring is weeping with cold tiny drops from the sky
She's like a ghost dressed in a shroud of cherry bloom She's like a feeling when a fresh wind drowns in brume This misty morning I have met her in the street With naked feet she was so weak and sweet
Cold rain drops - morning - dead spring The rain is falling on my skin I feel her touch