What lingers in his distant memory is the knowledge of a spring that will not yet come for many years. The only self who knows that scent is the self who knows it not just yet. If his life is a chimera, for whom did he endure all these years?
The scent of flowers...
...رائحة الأزهار
Der Duft von Blumen...
El olor de las flores...
El olor de las flores...
Le parfum de fleurs…
L'odore di fiori...
O aroma das flores