I don’t know what love is.
I only crawl on my knees
in front of glass dreams.
I have no idea what love is,
for she is more mysterious
than the depths of the Black Sea.
I don’t know where love is,
I only feel this urge to stand up,
and burn the roots of couch grass.
I don’t know who love is,
but I trust the Uncreated Light
of the Star that shines in the Morning.