| Not talk
|
| Young heart for love
|
| Not heartache
|
| Dark hair for catching the wind
|
| Not to veil the sight of a cold world
|
| Kiss while your lips are still red
|
| While he’s still silent
|
| Rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled
|
| Hold another hand 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 never comes back
|
| A passionate hour’s never a wasted one
|
| 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 silent
|
| Rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled
|
| Hold another hand 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 |