You are like my soul; a butterfly of a dream
Dark river-beds where the eternal thirst flows
And weariness follows, and the infinitive ache.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost you
I have said that you sang in the wind, songs eternally in flight
And this is all.
In the distance, you sing, in the distance
And I am happy!
Happy that it's not true
Happy that you are forever mine
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