Shall there be nothing left of all my love
Except a bit of dust blown on the air?
Only a song that echoes and is still,
To tell the world I loved and found you fair?

Perhaps the beauty of my silenced love
Will linger in the quiet afterglow,
Perhaps you still may hear my broken songs
When thrushes call and twilight breezes blow.

And yet I know my love will never die
But rise triumphant, crowned with many scars,
And it shall wait for you, nor wait in vain,
Beyond the scattered splendor of the stars.