Long Ago
There once was a tree that stood in the forest,
Alone on a steep rocky mound,
Where creatures found shelter, all through the night,
From the winds of October that blew all around.
Her whispering leaves did reach for the moon,
Silvery shining that touched my blue eye,
Her arms lifted high, smooth and bare grey,
To touch the black vault of the sky.
She whispered of things I had almost forgotten,
But known so long ago,
Oh, sing that song again to me,
That perhaps I may hear and know.
A song of praise, it seems to me,
If only I knew the song. . .
I listen and listen, not knowing for what,
Not knowing, yet loving the song.
The tempests may rage in the dark of the night,
And many great trees be splintered today,
But her strength wells up from the almighty Rock,
And her love washes sorrow forever away.
A leaf swirled down from high up above,
Caressing my sore troubled brow,
With a faint scent of Autumn that touched my sad heart,
And love awoke, and even now
I feel the warm touch of her hand in my own,
If ever I stop to dream,
When the night is full, and the stars are pale,
In the moonlight’s ethereal gleam.
Ah, ma douce chère coeur, ma seulemente chère,
Rappelle de moi quand tout est triste,
Ici je sois, et je me souviens,
Je t’aimai pour jamais, et maintenant je suis.
Alone on a steep rocky mound,
Where creatures found shelter, all through the night,
From the winds of October that blew all around.
Her whispering leaves did reach for the moon,
Silvery shining that touched my blue eye,
Her arms lifted high, smooth and bare grey,
To touch the black vault of the sky.
She whispered of things I had almost forgotten,
But known so long ago,
Oh, sing that song again to me,
That perhaps I may hear and know.
A song of praise, it seems to me,
If only I knew the song. . .
I listen and listen, not knowing for what,
Not knowing, yet loving the song.
The tempests may rage in the dark of the night,
And many great trees be splintered today,
But her strength wells up from the almighty Rock,
And her love washes sorrow forever away.
A leaf swirled down from high up above,
Caressing my sore troubled brow,
With a faint scent of Autumn that touched my sad heart,
And love awoke, and even now
I feel the warm touch of her hand in my own,
If ever I stop to dream,
When the night is full, and the stars are pale,
In the moonlight’s ethereal gleam.
Ah, ma douce chère coeur, ma seulemente chère,
Rappelle de moi quand tout est triste,
Ici je sois, et je me souviens,
Je t’aimai pour jamais, et maintenant je suis.