You are crying, woman.
Your love is deaf
and cannot hear
the moans of the mind,
is blind
and doesn't want to see
the tears of the heart.
You are crying, woman,
and there is blood of love
on your wounds,
that nobody knows,
covered by pain
that shouts in silence
while your eyes
hide,
in a sweet smile,
those sores of love.

7.1.'15