When I begin to think about love
I can't define or grasp and never - catch it.
It's always close, but remains above,
So tempting, beautiful, unscrupulous and wretched.
Love is a ship built to protect its freight
Which has survived all troubles and misfortunes
And every storm that in the sea prevailed,
But there's a leak and all you get is torch songs.
Love is a raging sea which can't be curbed,
It often starts the ocean of passion,
But if it is a little more disturbed
You'll see not more than rancour and depression.
Love is, like seasons, changing all the time
From spring with its unruly blossom
Through tender summer with its green and shine
To sifting rain like scalding tears in autumn.
Love is a winter when on cold nights
The fireplace is warm and softly crackles,
And there's a glimpse of hope in someone's eyes,
But he's alone, and hoplessness shackles.
Love makes us sad and sometimes drifts away,
It hurts a lot when being unrequited.
Love is a joyful, all-consuming play
In which the world, the life, the beauty started.