Farewell, Love
There you are those weird words
I´ve been told lovers don´t say
when dwellers in distant worlds
try to forget bygone days,
devoting themselves to the opium
which maybe eventually will do
to bring oblivion for them,
and future tears to shoo.
Praise for my now lost love,
golden days filled with ambrosia,
the joyful flight of many a dove
and may thy memories don´t sear
when remembering, if remembered,
ever-gone lavished caresses
which never more will be rendered
in departed calm recesses,
so as not to stir up, nay
thy profound tarn-eyed face
but for a faint lute´s lay
which is to sing all thy grace
with so eternal a sentiment
in the verse that I pray
yielded my being to its bent
in words I´ll never unsay.
There you are those weird words
I´ve been told lovers don´t say
when dwellers in distant worlds
try to forget bygone days.
