It was his last day in life,
the old man raised his head to the sky
and called out the name of the father:
God - when I die, I know it is your will,
but my last wish I pray to you to fulfil:
I never possessed a garden, so give it to me,
and I will be your son again.
Thorns of ice (will never melt)
on a stem of a rose
and the icy blossom will -
will resist the winter-storms.
My dream had come true - the old man thought,
but god gave him a garden full of ice.
In despair the old man grew ?em with frozen blue
but just one started to bloom.
A rose of ice with steel-blue thorns of frozen life.
With a snow-tear in his eye he stroke the plant
But thorns of ice ripped his skin
And his blood flew on the blossom.
It turned red - rose-red.
Thorns of ice (can make you bleed)
For what (for your life's deed)
Thorns of ice remember you
All the time in life.
Thorns of ice stitching your skin,
intoxicating all your blood,
lower the eternal pulse...
...with his hands,
full of freezing blood
the old man raised his head the second time to the sky
and asked again:
oh God, mighty God,
look at my hands, full of frozen blood like a murderer!
I never killed, I never slept, I never lived in sin,
but what for, you punish me -
God, mighty God...
Thorns Of Ice...
So here is my answer, the voice sounded from the sky,
I want you to remember the time you lived your life,
time spent, wasted on nothingness.
When you sow a second you'll never get an hour...
So the old man asked himself:
How much consideration I gave a rose in life?
