Lightly, lightly, very lightly a wind, a very light one, passes and goes away, still very lightly. And I don't know what I think and have no wish to know.

If only you would touch my heart,
   or is it to late...
If only you would put your lips to my heart,
   or is it to late...
If you would blow over my heart,
   near the sea,
   crying,
it would ring with an obscure sound,
the sound of train wheels, of dreams,
   or is it to late...
Like autumn in leaf,
Like blood,
   with a noise of damp flames burning the sky,
   or is it to late...
If you would blow on my heart near the sea
   like a white ghost would blow,
   or is it to late...
Like a dream of an unchained ghost crying at the 
   sea's edge.
Or is it to late...