Garden of Seasons

[Schneewittchen]

Garden of Seasons

The flowers that bloom in winter...
Have you ever seen them?
Have you ever loved them?
The harpsichord's singing again.

The light, protruding through clouds,
Falling gently on your ebony hair.
Little bird, won't you sing a song for me?
Make me smile as I watch the rain.

In the deepest winter, I never dared -
I never dared to look into your eyes.
Will these roots continue to grow?
Even though they are scarred and broken?

The gentle sunlight, warming you,
Seasons pass by, snowflakes on our skin.
The flowers in winter, they bloom -
They bloom in my heart; in your heart.

It's the song of the nostalgic dolls,
The tears of those who cannot love.
Those that rely on the fading sun,
Those that are as free as butterflies.

The laces and frills, they mean nothing...
Just like the flower you're reaching for.
We have forgotten how to hate,
In this garden of blue and white roses.

You sleep with a smile, don't you?
Listening to the pure violins,
Holding the white flower in your hands.
We never knew what love really meant.

Tears that scatter in the wind, glittering.
We smile even though we are hurt.
Our hearts don't pound with excitement anymore.
Our hearts don't beat anymore; not anymore.

Our sanctuary of gentle colours and voices;
The seraphs and cherubs envy us, don't they?
As we listen to the harpsichord, frozen tones,
We realise that the melody stopped long ago.

But even though, even though we may be sad,
Even though the frills and laces may be lies,
We still manage to smile even though it's raining;
Even though the seasons pass by, even if we don't notice.

So, let's sing again - let's sing our lullaby again.
Let's rest and dream those long forgotten memories.
Until we may feel real love and warmth,
Until we may feel the snowflakes on our porcelain skin.

It's because we are nothing but mere dolls,
No more than a small snowflake, a turbulent snowflake.
It's because we are the angels of the garden of seasons,
Looking at the sky, watching the clouds pass by.

It's because we are nothing but empty hopes,
Clinging to each other even if we may die.
Our little fingers, interlocked into each other,
Wiping each others tears from the eyes.

Our dream comes to an end, a sad end.
Choirs from heaven, sing for us!
The flowers in our hearts have wilted eternally;
They are scarred for ever and ever.

Father, put us back into our pretty boxes!
Love us, please give us love!
Show us what it means to live and hurt.
Show us what it means to be real and alive!

But until then... Until then, let us dream.
The fragrance of the pretty flowers still linger in my mind.
Let's hold on to it, let's hold gently on to it;
Until the day comes, let us remain in our pretty garden...