Assemble the Christmas tree and fill lights.
And I sit back and watch as the lanterns on and off.
as stars or constellations, such as light bugs come and go.
As lights that flow from the thousands of candles that were lit on Christmas Eve. Arriving
twelve.
And ring the bells of the Church of my people. Then come
.
is that gone are the days and nights have happened.
And I have tired my days waiting in vain for the roadside.
And they have closed my eyes to the misfortune of not seeing them and hug
As ever.
As it happens, that feeling comes over me first was surprise and sadness of the time was miss them.
of not seeing them, not knowing where to find them, can not imagine where in the time their lives, their dreams, their futures were forever prisoners. Arm
Christmas tree and cover it with garlands of lights.
Yellow, white, red, blue. Multicolored lights
I can imagine its brightness illuminate that path since the path to the meeting.
I know at the time of season they were at that point in time was the youth and from the youth's hope and remembrance.
I know that in the wrong time time the freshness of youth that is foreign to me to be present in the lights still turn on the Christmas tree and wait.
And my skin is not skin and full of spring flowers and blossoms.
tracks and there are rows and there are sorrows and dreams that were not.
And there waiting waiting since then.
And there are tears of crying ever since.
And there's a heart that is the heart that one day it shared the utopias of youth today is expected since those lights illuminate the road.
to return.
From that year and since that first Christmas after always well lit the tree with lights that illuminate a path to think of it as a way back
for which they have to walk to share the family table
My colleagues and I wait. As always
since.
Ever onward to victory
(shall meet again .... I'm sure)
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