These trifles used to be so runic -
But now they are burning to ashes.
And all I feel is endless music -
The wind is sweeping love confessions
Away. Okay. Without a ripple.
This sudden step smells like a riot!
Soothing's the potion that I tipple
With eyes so cold and heart so quiet.
Farewell, my stupid fruitless passions -
So strange and funny was this rubric.
Now everything is burnt to ashes,
and all I feel is endless music.