A trench in my heart you plough,

me – out of your life you throw,

tied to the job, I cannot go,

to these conditions – I bow.


Likewise you try to withdraw,

standing on two sides of a window,

inevitable, that we each other saw.


On the glass frosty flowers grow,

a freezing breeze does blow,

and the temperature is low.


Inside you, is there a glow?

Are you afraid, don’t want it to show?


Is it love or bitterness I saw?