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At My Gaze No Longer Laughs The Rose

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At my gaze no longer laughs the rose,
At the music of my words no longer blossoms forth the flowers

What is the use of going to the fair
With the garland of the withered smile?
Dose the dark night amaze her disheveled hair
Without looking at the moon for a while?

The southern wind brings the springs yet
But in the garden the nightingale sings no more.

No more does the wild flower in the forest
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7/30/2021 12:20:28 PM # 1.0.0.666