Why don't I look for you, I don't write to you,
Nor are you the inspiration of my verses?
Think back, think a little,
I behave like you, I only imitate you.
I can't give what I don't receive from you.
Where is my love, you ask yourself.
In the same place where yours is hidden:
Hidden behind stubbornness and pride.
Before the coldness with which you treat me,
I can't show you that your attitude kills me.
You must learn to value me,
To understand once and for all
That what I want to give you
It's not the same as what other women have offered.
It's the good kind of love, constant and lasting.
