Oh, the years drift slowly by, Lorena.
Old winter days are here again.
The dark clouds hide the sun, Lorena.
And frost gleams where the flowers have been.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held your hand in mine.
And felt your heart beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster, far than thine.
A hundred months was flowering May,
When on that hilly slope we climbed,
To watch the sun set on the bay,
And hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena,
More than we ever dared to tell.
And one we might have been, Lorena,
If my restless heart had let me stay.
I
recall the words you said to me.
They burn
within my memory yet.
They touch some tender cord, Lorena,
And fill me now with sad regret.
It was your woman's heart that spoke,
And banged me, stay a while, is true.
It was a cruel war that broke,
The tie that bound my soul to you.
A hundred months was flowering May,
When on that hilly slope we climbed,
To
watch the sun set on the bay,
And hear the distant church bells chime.