Oh, he can’t share my Spirits –
So, let it be.
Nor can he share my solitude –
So, let it be.
Neither – my mystery…
So, let it be.
But there it was – his pain,
his passion…
So,
let him not remember me,
let him not love me,
think about me anymore.
But there is was –
his open heart,
his open bleeding heart
of memory,
of recollections…
He did betray himself
giving his love away,
letting it show,
letting his feelings flow –
pain and desire.
For that’s the only way
that he can love.
Oh, did he love me?
Did he really love?
I never thought he did.
But now that twenty years have passed
I see – he did.
And all the pain,
and all the loss
blowed up in him.
His open heart –
pain and desire.
No irony,
no cynicism –
no kidding.
It was so much unlike him,
but I could see that.
And just for that
I’ll keep him in my heart
until the end:
No irony,
no cynicism –
no kidding…
But just an open bleeding heart –
pain and desire.
Yes, twenty years had passed
before I realized
how much he loved me,
although he never showed me that
back then…