I have a friend, a homeless poet away ...
Hungry, but he stands for me with loving care.
He helped me to understand that the man I loved
put my own good above his own fair.
"Sweet b’buska" he said, "you are used to men
expressing their love through their needs....
He craved for you and you are wondering then
how he left amid the silence, how he didn't stay until the end"
"Look, he is not only your lover ...
He is concerned about what he thinks you can bear.
Maybe he’s wrong, but that way perhaps you will more easily recover
He just wanted you to rejoice his presence as long as he was healthy and strong
"He is a good fighter indeed
although his pain knocked him down early.
He sees you are made for joy, don’t you see? '
Try to understand him, talk about love to me not to turn crazy "
"He took from you what life allowed him to try,
his love helps him to neglect his body.
He preferred your company to deny,
because he made himself a sacrifice to his soul "
It is right for me your love to trust ...
Fate gave me more happiness than I can count.
I’ll weep in secret, when I recall our past.
But I will stop calling you in distress in mourn.
I only desire to let you be calm...
But I don’t think that’s for you even.
My consolation is that at least you come
Inside me always alive
Go in peace, sweetie, stay unemotional.
Your eyes on me was amphorae
with fairy treasures in my being's hall.
Only because you want it, I go ahead.
