In the movie I have heard the birds singing, as they sing at dawn in the summer. In vain I hope that someday they will sound the same for me, as in those early calm days. I remember the chanting of the nightingale above the dark sleeping river, on the branch of the slumbering willow, in the glow of the sapphire night sky, at the place where my heart lived, that has become a part of me, where my already broken to pieces soul could find sanctuary and a short rest. But the place, a nightingale, a branch of a tree, a human heart ... there is no fairness in this life.
