I’ve hurt You five times.
You absorbed all my words
and Your wounds closed up,
yet blue traces still remain.
Because I’ve hurt You five times
I forgot how to fly.
Daylight blossoms at the horizon
like lilies on the surface of the water.
I have waited for You
five times to accompany me
over the plain of regret for all the deeds
I’ve sometimes stained my raincoat with.
These hours quickly run,
and we have no idea
for how long shall our roots
feed us with whispers.
If You can, forgive me five times
and give me a skylark to illumine my night,
to paint with unseen colors my canvas
filled with remorse and glances thrown in the past.
I’ve hurt You five time,
please forgive me seven times,
and I will give You my whole heart,
cut through by the secret longing for the sky.
Oh, silence is too beautiful,
and peace is too deep,
that peace that never falls
unless hearts have stopped beating.
I’ve hurt You five times
and You gave me Your hand every time,
to walk together up to the point
separating sadness from smile.