One fine summer, my lover left.
I dream of her dancing in the balcony,
wearing a bright yellow dress.
She sings rhapsodies and old folk songs,
the anklet on her left foot dances along.
On nights like these, I bleed out moonshine,
while she blooms out wreaths from her scars;
Reaching for her, I float along,
into air that smells of memories and cigars.
Scarlet autumns and pastel springs,
her smile like a warm bonfire in wintry winds.
I dream of her as the seasons turn,
but I lose her every time the summer comes.