Now that yesterday's pages have been turned,
Rustling, fluttering,
Flown far away
Now that those people have gone, far away
Voices have faded and destiny with sure fingers
Has traced other routes, other paths
Forget me.
The years have traced lines on faces,
Has touched with grey dark hair;
But the souvenir of those far-off places
Are the memories that are left to share.
Often I had wondered, some paths I could not tread
If I dreamt; sometimes the voices were so real
More real than the people I passed on the street
More real to me than the cold, the blazing heat.
Forget me.
Now the year has passed onto spring.
The trees have won back their leaves.
Roses bloom; the rivers swell with rain
Forget me, I cannot bear to remain your eternal pain.
