Swiftly as the breeze of a butterfly
No sign of them but my gray hair
My weak memory in her smile still lingers
Looking here, nowhere I drink wine
chained are the wings of time in my eyes
Spring of my age envying fall is consumed
When my holy love in sunset she conceived
Now, in bed I am retiring
Loneliness gnaws my inside
Sweetness, goodness is her belonging
That to the beast inside gives a hand
No crop of maturity equals that
Of bleeding memory, laden heart
« return.