Love
Let me strip you from the morning dew,
It is spring: listen to the raising melody
in the garden, the daffodils bloom anew:
let me take your tears under my custody.
Down, a river runs between twin hills,
The wind tries to contest the water pace,
Howling and spinning blades of windmills:
as my fingertips drop down by your face.
Do not weep if you discover me dead,
Touch my cold lips: make our breath one,
on my gravestone, last words you read.
Join by my side on this grave: love is gone
to navigate on the stead water stream,
a man cannot dream twice the same dream.
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