Tonight I could write the saddest line. Write, for example, 'The night has fallen and the blue star twinkled in the distance.' The night wind howled in the sky. Tonight I could write the saddest line. I loved him, and sometimes he loved me too. Through nights like this, I hold him in my arms I was kissed again and again under the endless sky. He sometimes loved me, and I loved him. How can one not have loved her still great eyes. Tonight I could write the saddest line. To think that I don't have him. To feel that I lost him. Heard it was a big night, even bigger without him. And the verse falls on the soul like dew on a green meadow. What is the problem of love I can not protect him. The night has passed and he is not with me. This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul was not satisfied that it had lost him. My gaze searched for him as if it was going to him. My heart sought him, and he was not with me. The same night bleached the same trees. We, back then, were not the same. I no longer love him, that's for sure, but how I loved him. My voice is trying to find the wind to touch the listener. Other people. She will be another's property. Like my previous kiss. His voice. His body is bright. His eyes are infinite. I don't love him anymore, that's for sure, but maybe I do. Love is short, forget it is long. Because on nights like this I hold him in my arms My soul is not satisfied that it has lost itself. Even if this was the last pain he made me suffer and this is the last verse I wrote for him.