When at first love arrives nothing is clear,
A dark misty fog enfolds like a dream, a desire,
Perhaps longing fulfilled,
Ghosts of lost loves drift in the fog,
Tempting doubt, despair of love.
The night fog is cold and wet
Forgetting the morning, we retreat in fear, go on alone.
When dawn comes, love is lost
Yet all is clear in the light, solitary as the sun,