You said love was going to be there
Even if we had nothing to spare
May were right then
But we are wrong now
I could see the love fading away
Somewhere far away, somehow
Just after a hard day’s work
I come back tired as a log
The fire burns within
When I see there is no one to talk
Do not think I am missing you
That I would like to see you again
Do not think I am remembering you
When I sit alone by the window pane
I am not used to saying sorry
That you well know
But can you not forgive me
And come back home?
But I you know me very well
And you also know very well the fact
I will not be the one saying sorry; and sadly
Neither are you going to say it first
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem