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why do my limbs now feel as cold as ice
when the summer's flowers all smile in hue?
why do green leaves wave in a gentle breeze
and yet my cheeks wither in salty dew?
who says that two weeks are short in one's life?
they are two years, no, two decades in mine
as I count second by second in my head
I'v lost my desire to drink or to dine
worry me not for love keeps me alive
and being ridiculed do not I fear
love speaks far louder than the roaring sea
deafening a cuckoo's slanders and smear
do come back soon my sweetest apple pie
or else the tormenting time will ne'er fly |
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