Now once more and where to be?
O what for, these wilted leaves,
And flying whispers, fragrant tones?
Of whistled way, by sated road.

Well, all I want will soon become
There written, in the sky
For then what is, indeed is sung
In time, no other sign.

And all I know that drips on me,
Head aflame and heart unsold,
For here within there is no other.
The way of you has not been told.

And though the railing turned to rust,
The passage carries true.
All I know is I was not loved,
Though love is coming soon.