We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.

I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

Thats all. Far away, 藏书网someone sings. Far away.

The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

My soul is lost without her.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.

My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

On nights lik九九藏书e this, I held her in my arms.

To think I dont have her. To feel that Ive lost her.

and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I no九*九*藏*书*网 longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,

Love is so short and oblivion藏书网 so long.

The same night that whitens the same trees.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.

How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

my soul is lost without her.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,

And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grawww.99lib.netss.

Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

Someone elses. She will be someone elses. As she once

My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

What does it matter that my love couldnt keep her.

and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

belonged to my kisses.