They build Towers and Taj Mahal alike,
They cross endless sea and far beyond;
As for me, I am least contented
But to have a pen and white paper
In place, is all I need in time.
True that love changes with faces
And faces have different loves' attire;
As for me, I am unchangeably hers
But the dying glory of passion
In love, is finally revived in us.
Few friends I possest in truth,
In truth they are no fewer than less;
As for me, I am what Jonathan is to David
But to part and pine is unseperable
In life, is re-united by death.
Dying is living yet.
