Come! Let us be friends.
Throw off the cloak of passion
(You wear it far too much)
And though your slightest touch
Has ceased to make me tremble,
There is no reason why --
We still cannot
climb our hill together,
And, at twilight's end,
Call each other "friend."
The rose tree fades but has its spring and
autumn,
And so with love.
But with a rose --
We gather its faded petals
And in a box of precious metals
We store its fragrance.
Why not with love?
And which is more beautiful --
Who can say?
A rose in bloom or the fragrance of its petals
In decay!
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