The tears of the Raven drip down from the tree.
The tears water the tree and it grows anew.

But the Raven perches in silent sadness,
alone in her search for love.

Love is dead, she proclaims with strength,
I resign myself to my fate.

I will neither soar nor glide nor freedom abid,
for the pain of change can be numbed.

Alas poor Raven, I wish I could heal thee!
I wish I could make your pain my own.

Would I take your pain and leave you free!
I would still my beating heart for you to
fly with all your power and beauty.

But I am but a mad man, not
worthy of the love of a Raven!