It cannot be written of, nor expressed in art,

the eloquence of love as it comes from the heart.

When two hearts collide in a twinkling of bliss,

like the me of a hug and the you of a kiss.

The soft tender moments that are born in a touch

are like petals of roses for lovers to clutch;

and the rain and the wind and the sweet morning dew

shall make them live eternal and blossom anew.

The mountains shall stand as a reminder of truth,

how love does not languish like the full lips of youth.

Love is a magic that is echoed unbroken,

a bright, gleaming rain with a rainbow as token.

A ship-wrecked heart can bring many waves to the eyes.

Love is cultivated in a forest of cries;

and stronger does time restore the heart like the moon,

like tears fill the ocean or the sleepy lagoon.

Our song is unending and never shall it wane,

the sweet notes resounding in each kiss of the rain;

and the roof-top music as it dances on tin

shall bring comfort to those who are sleeping within.

One ring, unbroken, love encircles the earth.

It is a part of us from the moment of birth.

It dissolves all heartaches, all pangs that are pending;

for love is our song and our song is unending.