Indeed someday I will be gone
down dusky hill like daylight Sun,
blind I will be to graveyard rose,
flaunt now thy flower when we are close.
Someday I'll heed the clarion call
like autumn flowers fade and fall
and will not feel thy candle's glow,
O burn; pure passion let me know.
Like summer takes the thirsty crops
far from the fist of winter-drops,
I will not taste your tender tears,
cry now for me when I am near.