Sweet little words made for silence 

Not so young, heartfelt love not heartache 

Dark hair fall, catch in the wind 

Not the will, the sight of a cold world 



Kiss, 

While your lips are still red 

While he's still in silent rest 

While bosom is still untouched 

Unveiled on another hair 

While the hand's still without a tool 

Drown into eyes while they're still blind 

Love while the night still hides the withering dawn 



First day of love [bad word] back  [bad word]  its power's never are wasted wrong 

The violin, the poet's hand 

Every thawing heart plays your theme with care 



Kiss, 

While your lips are still red 

While he's still in silent rest 

While bosom is still untouched 

Unveiled on another hair 

While the hand's still without a tool 

Drown into eyes while they're still blind 

Love while the night still hides the withering dawn