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Instead of your faceI kissed only glass;I drank the red wineand not your sweet lips,thinking of you onlyand our love, alas,while down my cheek slowlya warm teardrop slips.

I gazed at the glass,drained down to the last,and in it, so dear,your sweet face would gleam,and over that facea thin, sad shadow cast.I was wide awake:no, I did not dream.

And in that moment,more than ever before,I longed to draw youclose against my breast,to kiss you foreverand leave you no more,so dawn would awake usembraced and so blest.