|
I let him into my garden-- |
|
a bad mistake-- |
|
and what used to be lovely |
|
has gone away. |
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Gone away, the sparrows |
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and the silver leaf plums. |
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Fruits have fallen wasted |
|
and left spoiling in the sun. |
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Oh what a mess he made. |
|
Oh what a mess he made. |
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Our shape in the lilies |
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crushed where we lay, |
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and withered went the roses, |
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thorns and shame. |
|
Thorns and shame. |
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He took with him the rain. |
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He took what was lovely |
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and left me hollow here to waste. |
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Oh what a mess he made. |
|
Oh what a mess he made. |
|
He overturned the silver fountain |
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now it's water's running mud, |
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and ruined all relfections |
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and ruined my love. |
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My love, my love, |
|
down fell the doves, |
|
gray-eyed and flightless, |
|
down fell the doves. |
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Oh what a mess he made. |
|
Oh what a mess he made. |
