Our soul is like water,
Fluid and heat.
When its warming by love.
Then solid, and cold,
When the snowflake is grow,
In moments of sorrow.
And then, spring is coming.
Again.
And here is interestingly,
Is it subject to,
Like water - full cycle?
After all, every snowflake,
It turns out again,
on the sky,
Every three thousand years.
Аnd in what body will we find ourselves,
then?