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?