See the stream
that flows and ripples,
Rivulets laughing,
dew drenched rock crying,
Sad summer swallows
that gather and mourn
For their comrade.
Golden sun
that glitters fleetly
White disciples
of the sky
Sing their songs
of grim time's warning
Love so sweetly
finally die.
Die, and awaken,
forever, tomorrow.
This fitfull illusion
is certainly real;
And sadly
I mourn for
my comrade.