The tears of my love can fall,
What can it be why she is grieving.
Do not cry, dear one, do not cry.
May I tear apart the day and the night for the search of what is troubling,
May I kindle the love which makes you smile.
Do not let it fall dear,
Do not let the tear crease that forlorn affection,
as when I see the tear fall, such a liquid – I will search the earth for the rest of my days to replace such liquid – if it can ever be replaced.
The night which sways shall never hush and blow that tear astray,
Do you want me to search for it, dear? Please do not allow it to fall.
And the leaves might stir to flaunt the dust into thine eye,
Do not let it.
Let the universe build into a stormy ink, and smear upon your fingers the medicine,
Which you use to paint the flowers for your dearest tear to rest – oh do not let it fall.
May the gods be pitiful in curving our evolutionary must and stoop to touch our grievous hearts with at least a bellow to the winds which blow.
To love her,
To save her from my guilt.