Seated again,
remembering what has been lived
I try to find inspiration again
And write, Perhaps the verses
That are prettiest, for you.

But I cannot;
My inspiration has died
No matter how much I try,
My lips speak not.
Now there are not as before,
Words that burst forth,
From love for you.

Today, in my soul there is only
a great disillusionment
And in my eyes many tears,
Remembering something
that was so beautiful,
And now cannot be.