These are but murmurs of a muffled song,
-- chronicles of the flowering of mustard fields
-- dusty memories of a walk to the horizon
and whisper touches of a stolen kiss

His soul uncoiled like an unshackled spring,
His heart turned ashen,
When she walked away with all the answers --
to questions he is still asking

He loved with a fury untamed,
His passion had no bounds,
He lashed at the wind that caressed her face,
He burnt her heart with his flame