The Earth turns, the wind howls,

And the sun forgets to shine.

While in Hell’s dark bowels

Lovers often pine.

Through the sky a falling star did bore.

A wish of true love, the lovers’ hearts obeyed,

But true love lied, as it knocked upon their door,

And the lovers protested the price to be paid.

The Gods laughed in a dreary tone

At the lives the lovers wasted.

A portrait never to be seen,

And true love never to be tasted.