Translated by A. Z. Foreman - While There is yet the Colour of the Rose lyrics

While there is yet the color of the rose And of the lily in your countenance, And while the burning candor of your glance Can fire the heart and yet constrain its throes; And while yet that soft hair of yours which flows From a gold vein, in a disheveled dance Is tangled by wind's sudden dalliance As round that lovely proud white neck it blows, Gather the harvest from your joyous spring Of sweetest fruit before Time comes in rage Of snow to cover that fair peak at last. The rose will wither in the wind's chill blast. So changing everything comes flighty Age Never to change its way for anything.