Summer's warmth is
long forgotten
In the midst of winter's cold,
And fleeing youth is a distant shadow
As so soon we grow old.
But like a band that keeps on playing
So she'd have her maiden dance,
Waltzing eyes in gentle crying
May give poets another chance.
If their words are truly bold
They will be eternally sung,
And if their hearts are truly young
They will never grow old.
