This is the third time that I have written this book.
I wrote the saddest poem tonight.
Escribir, por ejemplo: "We don't have stars,
You are Tiritan, Azulus, Astro Boy, Los Lejos. "
For example, at night, there are stars; Far away, flashing blue light.
The lyrics and songs of this song.
The night wind is spinning and singing in the air.
This is the third time that I have written this book.
I wrote the saddest poem tonight.
Hello, you are my friend.
I love her. Once upon a time, she also loved me.
In the evening, we went to Blazouez.
Once, I hugged her on such a night.
Good things are always endless.
Once, under the boundless sky, I kissed her countless times.
Ella May Quezon, a girl you like.
She loves me. I loved her then, too.
I don't know what to do.
How can one not fall in love with her big staring eyes?
This is the third time that I have written this book.
I can write the saddest poem tonight.
I don't know. I'm Hera Perdido.
Yes, I don't have her anymore. Alas, I have lost her.
I don't know, I don't know.
Listening to the boundless night, without her, it is more and more empty.
You can also compare Alma to a rock singer.
Poetry falls into my soul like dew on the lawn.
The important thing is that my love is not guarded.
What does it matter if my love can't keep her?
This is a star. She doesn't like it.
The stars in the night sky are still shining, but she is not with me.
Me too. A happy song. A lo lejos.
If it is. Someone is singing in the distance.
My mother is not satisfied with this.
Without her, my soul will not be happy.
Just like I was in Milada in the bus.
My eyes searched for her as if I could get close to her.
I saw your car from the bus.
My voice floated with the wind in order to touch her ear.
I'm sorry, she's not in.
My heart is looking for her, but she is not with me.
This mistake is also wrong.
The same night darkens the same tree.
No, no, you didn't.
So, we are no longer.
You don't know, I know, but you know.
I don't love her anymore, really, but I used to love her so much.
De otero. Otero, Sellard. Just like my friends.
It belongs to someone else. She'll be someone else. Just like before I kissed her.
Hello, hello. So endless.
Her voice, her perfect posture. Her deep eyes.
You don't know, but you know.
I don't love her anymore, really, but maybe I still love her.
This is love, this is life.
Love is so short, but forgetting is so long.
Because we're in Blazouez tonight,
Because on many such nights, she was in my arms.
My mother is not satisfied with this.
This sea is my final destination,
This is your last hope.
Although this is the last trace of pain she left me,
Even though, this is the last poem I wrote to her.