I won't tell anyone

I won't tell anyone

why in spring

I'm not gathering flowers

in the fields and meadows.

That spring is distant now;

the flowers that I once wove

into wreaths with him

have wilted.

And those days are simply over,

have flown past like arrows,

when love entwined us

and burned like fire!

Everything has been over for a long time...

You can't return!

Without him, why

pick flowers?

I won't tell anyone

why I have

a weight on my chest,

a cruel grief oppressing me.