Standing before you... again, on the same place
facing the same face... a lot has changed, even the sweet smell of summer air
and yet your face is still as fair.
struck by the winter wind, weathered by the summer rain it is mine that has aged
and for all the pain i had to withstand
am i to be repaid by a touch of a cold hand
Beauty, do i deserve a look so stiff, as if struck by the morning frost?
but let this day not go to waste
let your hands pick the sad notes of the music that sha