I think there will be fireflies flying,
Shining their enigmatic light,
Illuminating the field,
and your grave.
I wonder whether fireflies are real,
Whether they shine in joy or pain,
Whether they resemble our feelings,
Or maybe they are the dead souls of you
and in time, me.
A long time ago beside the river,
The clear water reflected a dream,
One vision that would come true someday,
Then, that was the time we were young,
and full of dreams.
I cry for you,
I dont have anyone to dream with,
I dont have you to guide me,
or walk along me, as we reach that dream,
Happy days are rare,
For there is one less star in the sky,
Another painfull memory in me,
This cold december night,
I remember of you,
and myself together.