First day of love never comes back,
A passionate hour's never a wasted one.
The violin, the poet's hand,
Every thawing heart plays your theme with care.

Sweet little words made for silence,
Not talk.
Young heart for love,
Not heartache.
Dark hair for catching the wind,
Not to veil the sight of a cold world.
Kiss while your lips are still red,
While he`s still silent.