It is now two hours since I left you,
And the perfume of your hands is still on my hands.
And though since thenI have looked at the stars, walked in the cold blue streets,
And heard the dead leaves blowing over the
Under the trees,
I still remember the sound of your laughter.
How will it be, lady, when there is none left to remember
Even as long as this?
Will the dust braid your hair?
