Your love to me 
Untold, yet pure 
And as innocent as the nightengale in song
Ends now, without regret: 

- I love you - 

A spoken word 
A silent dream 
And the world was new again 
There is nothing of such wonder, I feel 
"You my love 
are my love" 

And As the days pass slowly
With silent, growing unrest
Quickly, now, do I tell you 
The truth in its distress: 

'I love you more. - I need you less.'

And Through it all, you remained 
A sullen, silent, tranquil dream
Still perfect to me, in every way
Yet, somehow it did change.

Your long, soft, flowing hair 
Your lovely, lucid shape
Your body, perfect as it is 
Our simple nakedness

To change in a soul's weak wandering 
As in time all things must 
To make of my love a butterfly
Betraying to you a lust

And such is the tale of love
That in its confusion, has gone awry
Of the emptiness of the male and female form
That, in love's absense, lies

On.