The leaves, the wind hath stop blowing,
The branches, the birds hath stop singing on.
The bark, the mice no longer reside,
The roots, no longer have light.
It was the spring I have loved you,
It was the summer my passion burned
It was the autumn the leaves hath turned,
It was winter I realized I lost you.
The sighs of men I sigh for you,
The question of why you have left me.
The truth you have thrust to me,
The day, that day, you have left me.
And till the spring the wind blows again,
In the winter, I shall wait, in sun and rain.