Tell me, you whom I love, was it you who drank my last pour of sanity?
From afar I've silently watched while you were bathing on the roof. And my heart desires the nights.
I've wrote lyrics of our tragedy in a piece of paper, but my heart beats again every time I see you.
How can there be death? For it is I.
It is I whose dream is to sleep on your lap. To hold your waist close to mine and drink water from your mouth.
Tell me, was it you, my lover? The one who spoke with me last night so comfortably as if I have known you way before. That you were recorded on my palm long before your mother bore you.
Was it you, my beloved? The one who drank my last drop of strength. Right before my fall, behind walls that I have built with our names.
