I have grown old and beyond longing for thee
Not thine the fault thou canst not see.
To see the heart one has to cut through
And see how it wails like the banshee.







My mind thy thought averteth
But my passion still remains the firmest
And my eyes forever looks for thee
And search for thou sign in the furthest.

Days are weeks and weeks are years
My memoirs are thy memories it appears.
Thine is the laugh and life, with thee
Even centuries look like volunteers.

Thou mind is the deer, my dear
And I a lake, pure and clear.
Thy thirst thou must quench
And take me with thee as a souvenir.

Fret not, my heart is now dark but not evil.
Keep the roses for thyself and be still
near these thorns that stopped thee from me
in life but now it is Death
and I still am longing for thee.