The weeping of the guitarbegins.
The goblets of dawnare smashed.
The weeping of the guitarbegins.
Uselessto silence it.
Impossibleto silence it.
It weeps monotonouslyas water weepsas the wind weepsover snowfields.
Impossibleto silence it.
It weeps for distantthings.
Hot southern sandsyearning for white camellias.
Weeps arrow without targetevening without morningand the first dead birdon the branch.
Oh, guitar!
Heart mortally woundedby five swords.
