Something is over, something is ended.
Once beautiful garden is now abandoned.
The light of the day is slowly dying.
The house is empty and bitterly sighing.
No sound is heard, no word to be spoken.
Only silence prevails, will it ever be broken?
The house is standing and mournfully crying.
Those joyful days so swiftly were flying.
Sad is the song of the wind in the boughs.
Lulling the lonely dreams of the house.
But maybe the doors will be opened one day.
And life will return to the house again.
The singing of birds will be heard in the trees.
But the house is silent and lost the keys.