Go, nothing is better for the soul
Than to dispel some sadness from a soul!
Music before all else.
The long sobs
Of the violins
Hurt my heart
With a monotonous
The art, my children, it is to be absolutely oneself.
Here are fruits, flowers, leaves and branches,
And here is my heart which beats only for you.
Tears are shed in my heart like the rain on the town.
And so I leave
On cruel winds
And gusting me
Like a dead leaf