...

You are that perfume that refused to die in time, a cold embrace that stayed with me without warning.

You are the voice of that old violin that has already died, and only its echo remains.

Tears of blood that winter froze, and a sigh that wanders everywhere.

Moon, come to me and light the way, break the glass of darkness and make me see reality.

You are that perfume that never dies, walk, angel with wings of fire, and live again.

Tears of blood that die in oblivion, fly high, angel of fire.

You are that perfume that never died with time.