Even the most aloof of beauties

Even the most aloof of beauties

Is softened through long-enduring pain,

And the joys of love shall

Finally reward a faithful heart.

Ah, how sweet are all cares,

Every toil how easy,

When one hopes that tomorrow, tomorrow

Her pride might just melt.

The deluge of the thunderstorm in the grove

Spares nothing in its path;

Dripping, a spring rain penetrates

Bit by bit into stone.