Love did not die. I still create your image to my heart every solitary night.

Kiss the lips upon me once, and I shall never tell.

What exists in this heart is not imaginary. This hand would not grasp air in trying to hold you, nor this eye blind itself in searching for you in vain.

When the hour draws near for you to depart, I shall look upon the clock and curse; and the lips you caressed so tenderly shall tremble with lover's thirst.