When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
The furthest distance in the world
Is not between life and death
But when I stand in front of you
Yet you don't know that
I love you.
The furthest distance in the world
Is not when I stand in front of you
Yet you can't see my love
But when undoubtedly knowing the love from both
Yet cannot be together.
The furthest distance in the world
Is not being apart while being in love
But when I plainly cannot resist the yearning
Yet pretending you have never been in my heart.
The furthest distance in the world
Is not struggling against the tides
But using one's indifferent heart
To dig an uncrossable river
For the one who loves you.
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