The First Symphony Don't Blame Not The Pen for Writing

Oh, just tell me what place you are going, So, I will come fast, much faster than lightning, Or like horses that cause chaos and clamor, Or thrilled with wine, like a drunk in summer.No longer can I be a heavy drunk as before, With love, nor carry my frail body anymore.It sways all the time as it carries my soulThat groans for your absence from me, that's all.The music I have heard with you, still in my ear, Resounds and screams, and this I can't bear.