Life is on a swift horse, and youth is on a fleet,
Beauty rides with spur and whip, and nothing stays.
Snatch my hand and pull me close, and make them beat,
Your heart and my heart, a few small days!
Let the quarrels go now, the explaining word;
Let the treasured griefs drop down like sand.
What are our best toys, when their hooves are heard?
Put the words behind us, and touch my hand.
Mighty are the steeds and swift, wild the steeds that bear
The Three on the highroad where the small stones fly.
If your face hide at my neck, my eyes hide in your hair,
We shall never know, then, Who has ridden by!