In the solitude of the night,
she sees an ancient person of her heart,
when the soft wind lovingly blows,
she feels the longing grows.
If only they had seen what was true,
the youth love could have been pursued.
He, the ancient person of her heart,
seeing him again is her delight.
Her mind lingers to the distant past,
to the untold story of them both.
But the present is what she trusts,
with whom she sees her love's growth.
Their idle flame shall not burn or die,
it will remain in their hearts, apart.
Till life is ripped, thus they die,
An ancient person of her heart.
by Rynn Yusuf