If I could for just one moment
Touch my fingers to the soft sweet rose
Which grows to the west of the mountains
My soul would rest.

If I could taste one drop
Of the dew which runs down the side
Of that lovely flower
My song could end.

If I could rest my eyes upon
The tender blossom in the sunlight
Growing in the fertile valley
I could close them in peace.

But, for the moment, that dear flower,
The rose of the valley
East of the sea,
Eludes me.

Only the brief memory of
The beauty and the sweetness,
Which I barely got to see,
And ne'er to taste
Sustains me.

Time shall pass, and memories shall fade
Yet the few memories I have
Will remain as red and as ripe
And as fresh,
As that rose.