I returned to the old city
to where the silver flood waters once overflowed
to memories of an afternoon far past,
to our native town, your and mine.

That beautiful day still alive in my mine:
you and your white hat, the afternoon light in the small street,
your purple dress, your long hair fluttering in the wind,
and the church bells sounding a thousand times

Old city destroyed in the war.
I ache for your every small street,
ache as if my blood ran through those flamboyant  flowers,
part of me falling away with lost petal.

But in my dream the city was untouched,
the streets were alive, riplling like waves.
Your smile was a rose just blossoming;
And your eyes burned like stars through my heart.

How I miss those flowing waters,
a past that can never return,
your look in the weak winter light,
the long reeds leaning on the far side of the river.

How memories and longing fill my heart;
how the old city fills my mind;
how my love for you has remained with the years,
And my hair grown gray like the tall reed flowers.