I remember love's first days:
 autumn, on the edge of time,
 skies as endless as desire,
 smoke in the nostrils, eyes on fire,
 different parts in different plays --
I remember love's first days.

I remember how love broke:
 season filled with restlessness,
 gray and empty, wet and lost,
 wind in the trees and wishes crossed,
 only the memory of the smoke --
I remember how love broke.

I remember all of this,
 even from this age, and range --
I remember all of this,
 but have I the strength to change?