I search in vain through the snow for her footprints, where she walked by my arm through the green meadow. I want to kiss the ground, pierce ice and snow with my hot tears, until I see the earth. Where can I find a blossom, where can I find green grass? The flowers are withered, the lawn looks so pale. Shall I take no memory with me from here? When my pain is silent, who will tell me of her? My heart is as if dead, her image stares coldly within it: Will my heart ever melt again, will her image also fade away?