O creator of every story, this is me, this is me, you are on the instrument of my heart, this is me, this is me, this is you, I am crying for me every moment apart from you, I am crying for me with
every breath, your place is empty, I love your pampering, I love to kill you for your sake, I see you alone, I love to see you alone, I love waiting for
the sound of your footsteps from the alley, I hear only you, I see you in
that long cloud that your hands heal the salt marsh on that beach. The light that every wave brings prostration to you, in the green season, the love that every spring flower has from you , if it is not your caress, the flower of the greenhouse is thorny,
in the last words that the poet brings in every sonnet, without you, God has no more sonnets in his poems , stay so that the glory of love remains, so that the storyteller of love does not say that the sanctity of love has been broken, in the honor of love.
