Sweet little words made for silence
Young heart for love
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