She was alone on that fair night
As he had gone to a place unknown
She did not say it to her knight
But it was their day, how quickly it had flown
Although his absence marked her pain
She was not bothered by the solitude
For it had stayed like a stain
Even love could not erase what was crude
So she brang the knife to her arm
Calmly; she did not bear sadness
She lifted the knife and made a toast:
" A l'amour qui nous unisse" ("To the love that binds us")
And drew the first blood.
