O, grieving heart, cheer up and sing
Though love only stayed but a short while;
Soon you'll be drinking again from love's spring,
Forgotten will be love's cunning guile

O,  abandoned heart, dry your tears,
Crying will not bring back a lost love;
But reflect on the bliss of bygone years --
Memories are gifts from Heav'n above

O, broken heart, it's time to mend,
In due time you'll come to realize
New love may be waiting around the bend --
Be alert for blessings in disguise!

O, wounded heart, don't try to fly,
Dare not venture forth on broken wings;
Though love's warm glow fails to illume your sky,
Somewhere in the dark a bird still sings

O, mortal heart, your pain will end,
And from Life's shackles you'll be set free;
So let dead love to Heaven's throne ascend . . .
For love has its own eternity

This path, overgrown with briar and brambles,
Thorns and nettles strewn in disarray;
A loathsome path of broken dreams, and yet,
Willingly I walk it each day

This path that hurts not the feet, but the heart,
Where roiling streams overflow their banks,
And burning cinders comingle with ice --
An affirmation of Life's cruel pranks!

What is it that prompts my unwavering steps?
The love that greets me at journey's end!
The ghost of a love lost so long ago
Leaps boundaries only love can transcend

What pain I endure to savor love's bliss!
On this path, blazed by temerity,
I fly past the graveyard of ill-fated  dreams
To a love that defies mortality

How weary I've grown trying to understand
Why such perfect love incurred God's wrath;
And now all that's left are the memories
That await me at the end of this path

I think I could have loved you,
O, how you stoked passion's fire!
Or was it just the madness of Spring
That kindled such wild desire?

Was my lantern's glow too faint
As our ships passed in the night?
Or perhaps Fate extinguished the flame
Before you could see its light

We may well have been lovers
If given the proper chance;
But why did the music stop playing
Before we finished our dance?

The sun has deserted my sky,
Alas! not one beam will descend
To comfort me when chilling gales
Cause the fragile grasses to bend

And the wind seems preoccupied --
But what could it be thinking of?
I swear I heard it whispering:
"Tell me, Lady, where is your love?"

Please don't ask, but help dry my tears
Before night unfurls its cover,
Lest some rude star dares to inquire:
"O Lady, where is your lover?"

The restless moon's searching in vain
For two lovers veiled from his view;
He seeks the Lady and her love,
But tonight I walk without you

Was ours a love too beautiful,
Perhaps taunting the ire of Fate?
O, why did God exile our hearts
From Paradise and lock the gate?

Crashing thunder peals through the clouds,
The wind's moving with dauntless might;
No rainbow will follow this storm . . .
The Lady lost her love tonight

I was too busy loving you
To ever notice the signs . . .
The frost forming in the vineyard,
The snow gathering in the pines

So busy was I loving you,
I didn't notice the smoke;
The fire had burned out long ago,
Leaving only embers to stoke

And then there was that lovely rose
You and I planted in the Spring;
While I was busy loving you,
I failed to see it withering

To our garden, without warning
There came clouds obstructing my sight;
Too busy was I loving you
To foresee the approaching blight

There's nothing left to salvage now,
Just withered vines  where love once grew;
Why did I not see this coming?
I was too busy loving you!

Death nips relentlessly at my heels
Like a mongrel that broke from its chains.
Depart, you thief of cherished flesh,
You've no right yet to my remains!

Keep your distance, mask your putrid scent,
I'm not ready . . . and I reject it.
Of course, I know you'll have your way
Some night when I least expect it

And you'll deliver some lame excuse,
As any deceitful villain would;
Ramble on, vicious Thief of Life,
Your prattle will do you no good

Although despised by one and by all,
Some cruel law has given you free reign
To decide when our transient frames
Shall invade the earthworm's domain

And obey we must -  we have no choice,
Not the meek, not the bold, nor the mild.
Indiscriminate is the soil,
Taking all . . . man, woman and child

For you've never yet lost a battle--
By no regulations are you bound.
I'll object, but you'll still drag me
To your lair deep into the ground

And when that final trumpet blast sounds,
Not a drop of mercy will you show;
Up you'll jump, eager to collect
All that's due you . . . and down we'll go!

Ice still gathers upon the window panes.
Though I keep the hearth ablaze, I fear
In this desolate corner of my world
Spring will be a little late this year

A fear of dread and emptiness prevails
Since the light and warmth of love withdrew,
How will I endure  . . . How can I forget
All the joys of Spring that I once knew?

Now trees raise leafless arms toward the sky,
Shivering without their sleeves of green;
Bewildered birds gaze upon vacant nests,
Sadly pondering the dismal scene

And the flowers . . . what could convince them
To awaken to this hollow gloom?
To what avail would be their blossoming
And the essence of their sweet perfume?

And though I smile, my eyes betray the pain
That stabs at the heart when love is lost;
The sun has battened down its golden doors,
Leaving Hope to tremble in the frost

I'll not see the flowers bloom and go to seed,
Nor hear the nightingale's plaintive call;
And I know, as sure as day turns to night,
Spring will be late . . . if it comes at all