The year was fading, the sunlight was weak,
The woods in the winter were withered and bleak,
And your songs were all darkened with pain;
For you dwelt upon words that were twisted to hate,
And our love was forsaken by bitterest fate,
And your demon had broken his chain.
The fire was dying, the embers grew cold,
Your smile was deepened by sorrows of old;
O, do you still love me today?
You cast off your raiment and opened the door;
Your white cloth and emeralds fell to the floor
As the sun in the west died away.