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ããEach of the endings had been written
ããAll the tears been already on the way
ããBut how did it begin weâd forgotten
ããOn that old unrepeatable summerâs day
ããNo matter how I used to follow trace
ããThee young, in the flashy floating cloudslost
ããA softest and faintest smile on thou face
ããWhich day by day disappeared amidst
ããFrom hill to hill after the sunâs falling
ããThen the yellowish title page unfolded
ããFortune made it with awfully binding
ããWith tears again and again had I read
ããBeing unwilling to admit the truth
ããAll is rush written in the book of youth
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