Old love

Dark swallows are returning

From a distant land;

The docile storks are returning

And delivering new happiness.

On this spring morning,

So darkly dull and warm,

It seems to me I've found again

The grief of old love.

It is as if somebody

Tapped me gently on the shoulder,

As if I heard a rustling sound,

Like the flight of a dove.

At my door comes a knocking sound,

And yet no one is out there;

I'm breathing in the scent of jasmine

And have no bouquet.

Someone calls to me from far away,

An eye watches me,

An old dream catches me

And drives me down its path.