In bed we lie awake facing each other
Windows are shut and curtains drawn
Our bed is warm, our trunks are clasped together
The candle wick weeps away, the night is far off dawn
Our youth has swiftly perished like a dream
In few hours we’ll part, and when we’ve parted, anew, tears will stream.
We whisper and sigh, before morn the pillow grow wet
It’s the hour we loathe yet.