Tonight I can write the
saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The
night is shattered
and the blue stars shiver in
the distance.'
The night wind revolves in
the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the
saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes
she loved me too.
Through nights like this one
I held her in my arms
I kissed her again and again
under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I
loved her too.
How could one not have loved
her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the
saddest lines.
To think that I do not have
her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night,
still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the
soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my
love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and
she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance
someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that
it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as
though to go to her.
My heart looks for her, and
she is not with me.
The same night whitening the
same trees.
We, of that time, are no
longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's
certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the
wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be
another's. Like my kisses before.
Her voide. Her bright body. Her
inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's
certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting
is so long.
Because through nights like
this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that
it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain
that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses
that I write for her.
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