My love doesn't live in poetry,
You won't find it until you feel it.,
She lives not in the drunk wine brotherhood,
She's in her heart, you paint him!
My love does not fly in heaven,
She flies where no one else has been.,
It is derived at the poles
And rapidly brings the music that you hear.
My love doesn't live in poetry,
In the words repeated by millions of billions of times,
She quietly arises in dreams,
It does not require vows and hundreds of phrases.
My love doesn't live in poetry,
It is in me, in you, in spiritual unity,
My love will stand the time,
She same lives in you, me, in us.