The page torn away from the painting-book,
Was in my hand and I was burning it;
As the paper was in flames and I, in tears
Something happened and, the page stopped burning.
Torn and half-burnt, it has survived,
To tell a tale of love and woe;
The page asks me if love is all woe,
How did it survive the scorching flames!
No answer have I to the question asked;
And in my silence the page found victory;
Sheer joy it is to be in love,
And it is love in us that survives all.