oh what a beautiful friend
death then seemed to be

as the stars cannot shine for my eyes
as the night cannot shield daylight

as sleep could not take everything away

as day never refuses to exile night in dismay
as the sun could not help the wilted flower,

as the child holds its moans from its mother
as the mother takes the broken flower,
and cradles it gently across her palm,
hymning
he loves me,
he loves me not,

death loves me,
loves me not;

loves me,
loves me not,

loves me,
loves me n-