The leaves fly in the wind no longer, the angel visits my dream no longer,
My imagination is lost;
The fireflies glow no longer, the roses in the garden I can see no longer,
My vision is lost;
The roads meet no longer, the name of that fruit she taught me to eat I remember no longer,
My memory is lost;
The waves break on the shore no longer, the storm bestows confidence in me no longer,
My strength is lost;
The bees hum no longer, the pebbles on the river-floor I feel no longer,
My senses are lost;
Praises I can afford no longer,
My words are lost.
Where is that mind made of iron, when all is lost?
All that remains is rust, choking in the storm of dust,
Clinging to that lonely mast!
