Sweet little words made for silence
Not so young, heartfelt love not heartache
Dark hair fall, catch in the wind
not the will, the sight of a cold world
Kiss,
While your lips are still red
While he’s still in silent rest
While bosom is still untouched
Unveiled on another hair
While the hand’s still without a tool
Drown into eyes while they’re still blind
Love while the night still hides the withering dawn
First day of love never comes back
Compassion, its power’s never are wasted wrong
The violin, the poet’s hand
Every thawing heart plays your theme with care