She who would like to love, it breaks my heart to see her doubt
She who doesn’t know love outside the gates of her fort
Can love be made of paper and cigarette ashes? She once asked.
Can love be made of lies and smiles?
She doesn’t know.
For she doesn’t really understand; from where love comes
And she still asks herself, Can love be made of gold to drape the neck and be shown to the world?
Are roses made of love? She repeated to me once and once more.
Please, tell me. Does love comes out of stones? She cried no tears, but a cry still
Would my prince be a former frog? And time kept passing and love still unheard of
Untouched her red lips, her red hair uncombed.
When it comes how I could possibly know? I try to explain but no reason came
She who does not love. She who does not hate.
She and I, who are the same, forever would want a happy end.
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