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.