Wherever I see a harsh or dry sight,
All the love they carry my hands sprinkle,
Sometimes in sunlight, sometimes in moonlight,
When I'm able to, little by little.
When I am like the fresh flowers of youth,
Or when I am like ripe stems of old age,
No matter which one, it's a solid truth
That I will always write down love on each page.
I write it down unto my blank paper,
I pour it down into my own music,
I present it for free to each taker,
And tell it with eloquence's magic.
  Each song, each verse, each fragrance and move,
  Is all solely for the sake of sweet love.