In your unseen love,
when morning opens its eyes,
the birds sing with longing.
And when evening closes its eyes,
I see a moon that reminds me of you.
Oh, my poor heart,
drowning in your unseen love.

THE COLORS OF YOUR LOVE
The leaves of your love tree are green, but they don't tempt your dazzling birds.
Purple is a stormy color, telling you that my love is deep and mature.
Blue is the color of love; it resembles your warm eyes, quietly inviting you in.
Pink is also beautiful; it resembles our whispers and holds hope for the future. And white is precious, resembling your pure soul.
Your love is a world of colors, enough to release a rose.
A red rose is a sign of love.
But my love for you is a bouquet of flowers that teaches us the beauty of colors.
The colors of you love are the sounds of birds and a beautiful painting.
But know that all the colors of love fade before your blue eyes.

Let me dream a little, for I am a man who hasn't known dreams for a long time. I don't know how to read words of love. Let me live a moment of illusion that will steal me away from this gray world, for this heart is a river of long absence.
You are the most beautiful thing that has happened in my life, and your love is the most beautiful page of my days. How can you possess me to this extent? And how can your blue eyes shine with such great joy?
My love for you is something I cannot describe, my feelings for you are something indescribable, and your smile is something indescribable. So let me dream a little before my happiness with you fades.

How does it happen? I am a brown-skinned peasant from the South who fell in love with a blue-eyed writer, who might once have been from the North.
She is a distinguished, beloved writer who feels the pain of the people and seeks to lift injustice from their shoulders. She writes about politics, which I know nothing about. It is said that politicians have theories and ideas, while I sit among the bean fields, hearing nothing but the chirping of birds and seeing nothing but the flow of the river.
She is the shortcut to beauty, creativity, pure thought, and profound wisdom, while I am that simple peasant who knows nothing about love or the Detian Falls.
How can she penetrate my loneliness? I am a peasant wandering alone among the fields. I had no idea that someone who falls in love with a writer becomes someone who loves reading and poetry.

I know you're something hopeless, and your love is something hopeless. But I'm truly happy with this love, so much so that I've come to adore despair because it's a beautiful depiction of love.
Your hopeless love is warm and moist like a flower and soft and delicate to the touch like a breeze. O Silent, you come in the evening, embracing my heart with the tales of the little leaves with great passion.
Believe me, I don't need a step from you. I don't want anything from you, not even for you to look at me or thinking of me for a moment, because I'm so happy with your love. I can't imagine how miserable I'd be if I never saw your blue eyes.
I know I'm living in an illusion, dreaming, and lying to myself. But I will never forget this happiness of your love, which is hopeless and illusory.

I am a raindrop, and you know that rain is longing. It fall tenderly amidst the noise to revive the lands of our depths. Yes, that's me amidst the waves and seas of your love, just a raindrop falling before sunset. That's how I flow with all my love and all my longing, onto your cheeks and lips.
How I long for those moments that deepen within me and plant in me an unshakable love. I remember what your eyes were like that morning, what your smile was like that morning, what your voice was like that morning. I look at you with all my love and longing, and I send silent kisses on the wings of the wind, but when my longing overflows, my eyes are drowned in rain. Yes, raindrops are tears of silent longing.
I remember so well how I was just a raindrop in the endless seas of your love.

If you only knew how many flowers I hold in my heart for you, and how much I wish to give you a flower every day, and write a kind greeting with it, and nothing more.
If you only knew how much I dream of pink colors with you, and how many beautiful paintings I paint with your smiling like the morning sun.
Your flowers in my heart never wither or sleep. I always talk to them, touch them, and caress them. How delicate and beautiful they are.
Your flowers have a distinctive scent and a special presence. They have captivating eyes like yours, and rosy lips like yours. And I, like a hidden shadow, flirt with your eyes every morning and kiss your lips every evening.
Your flowers grow near my stream, and I water them with love. They turn red, bloom, and blossom like a star and a gentle breeze. I water them with a waterfall of endless love.