Before your tenderly gazing eyes

She sat, her shoulders so slender.

With a gentle face that seemed so happy

Smiling, she gave you her consent.

With a great rising sound I felt like

Something inside me was about to crumble

But, unable to move

I just stood there, frozen.

"Why isn't it me?"

I won't ask that laughably pointless question, but

I'd never seen you like that before - you were just there*

And yet... and yet... you seemed so far from my reach.

Whatever can I call such a feeling?

Since I learned why such sorrow

Is sometimes visible in your eyes...

I came to understand that the one who can

Do something for you isn't me, or just anyone else

But that one person alone.

I pretend to have always known

The truth that I now realise

And though I seemed to have fooled you with my obvious lies

It's just... it's just... so excessively empty.

Do people really call such feelings "love"?

"Why isn't it me?"

I won't ask that laughably pointless question, but

I'd never seen you like that before - you were just there*

And yet... and yet... you turned out to be so far away...