And I said to you
That my flame would not burn you
But it would warm you.

But it was I drawn to your flame
That unselfish giving of your love
That warmed me that winter.

The summer was hot, not warm
Without you
It was sad.

Now winter comes
And there will be no warmth for me
Without your flame.
My moth's wings will be cold.

You whom I have adored
The memory of you
Must be the flame
To keep me warm.

Oh do not be angry with me
Sweetest Seentha.
I am helpless
Deep in thoughts of you
Which you cannot return.

But be happy because I have loved you
Remember my touch and my words
Words sent into your heart
Like arrows of Cupid
They penetrated but did not wound.

We face the winter
The dying sun
The encroaching darkness
With the warmth of hope
For new lives.

I kiss your memory.
Your love was far better
Than all the loves of my life!
My precious moth.