See thee now, who hast betrayed

The ways of old, the sacred sage

The time that flows in strands, a stream

Its silver waters under your light doth gleam

You robed in white with flowers crowned

Who looks upon me, in sorrows drowned

Such purity heard within your voice

Bestowed upon evil against your choice

Why do you look at your love with pity

Why do you stare at me with such humility

I, your love, lifetimes ago

Why did you leave the times of old