Silence captured words in your cold eyes,
And passion snuggled to last feeble ties,
And optimism clung to a heart about to die,
O, patience allow me time for a loyal lie.
O, my sweet soul; look at me once more,
Look at me tenderly in peace as before,
Then lie where thou once walked following the turtle to the plain,
While I was watching you waving in the warm rain,
The meadow loved the way you followed the tortoise to the field,
And I loved thy roaming about when it disappeared,
While thou laughed ,and chuckled the green reed,
Then you withdrew your hands and head into thy shell coat,
And lively danced in the pasture of wild oat.
O, my love, the canon was quieted for unpredictable reason,
And the rifles breathed a last fatal treason,
Which bloomed with red flowers on thy warm chest,
See, in the place, thy spring's beauty shone upon the rest;
Me, the anemones, the damp rocks and the merciful death,
And seized my soul and obliterated our life's myth.