The Adagietto slowly stirs
permeating the Viennese Fall;
in its trace, we wade through leaves;
fading time won’t hinder us.

Looking for the Karlskirche
we were lured by the Adagietto.
And the Viennese sky did not fade
when behind the park we found

the fine temple of Gustav and Alma;
for we had cheated fading;
our love grieved about something else then:
he’ll never run dry but the body will.