The stories in the lip-bound silences are different.
The expressions of the sorrows of the heart are different.
In another climate grief was more tolerable,
But the events now burdening our lives are different.
O the walker upon loyalty's road, keep your watch.
The obstacles strewed upon this stony trail are different.
There is no fear of separation, nor the wish for union.
The worries and the troubles of my maverick heart are different.
In the last leaf-shedding only flowers fell from twigs.
This year, the omens of the fall are different.
The world lacks the pluck to sense my ache to its depth.
Endow me with a melody for my cry that is different.
One disclosing glance has bared the issue of being.
Now the fields in the vista of my eyes are different.
There will be troops, nor flags. There is money, neither pomp.
The marks of the monarchs of the soil are different.
People do not die for their beloveds these days.
The denizens of youth in my youthful times were different.