Still you won't come?

For my love to grow old in your eyes, how much more ancient must it become?
How much longer must I love you before you understand this is true love, not some childish whim?
What will make you see how deeply I long to belong to you alone?
In your eyes, this love of mine that seems so new—when will it finally age into something you trust?

If I spend what's left of my life standing here, hidden behind this tree,
will you still say at the end, "Oh, what a foolish girl"?
If I clasp your hand tight between both of mine and say I'll never let go, will you still pull away?
If I spend every night with your name, lost in thoughts of you,
will my love still fall short somewhere?

When will you come to me again?
How much more pain must I bear before you come to wipe these tears with your gentle touch?
I'm burning to ash...
I'm tearing apart, dying from the inside out—
won't you understand even then?
Won't you come even then?
Won't you draw this weary head to rest against your chest?

I'm falling to pieces,
I'm losing consciousness in this sharp ache,
I'm freezing into ice, growing colder by degrees—
and still you won't understand?

They say love can melt even the hardest steel with ease,
so what kind of love have I chosen that cannot soften your heart after all this time?