A face, a race, the patter of the rain
I run and hide, with still nothing to gain
And there you are, with both arms open wide
You make me sick, and yet I can't defy
These feelings that are here
this truth within the light;
Because the simple facts
are what I can't call right.
My better judgement slaps me
yet my heart sings louder still
I'm saying that I love you,
though against my will.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem