I believed our love would be shaped,
Into the mountain, into the sea.
Yet the absence of tenderness,
Of hours watching the naked moon.
Thou dropped a fragile heart,
Did thou ever care?
Beside thee through the nights,
Lost in the dreams with tears of anguish,
No sight of treasuring minutes,
Coming back in the darkness, in thy wet arms.
Have thou ever asked thyself,
Where the inspiration hides,
Why thou get up every morning,
In thy arm lies a constant source of happiness.
Can’t thou feel the warmth?
My blood ...