Love is nostalgic,
it is an invisible voice with gentle sadness,
it does not hurt, but it burns. . .
This ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ consumes,
   every corner of your soul,
       every tear streamed,
           every word uttered,
leaving ardent ash, wanting time to come to an end.
Forever to last longer, as it paints his picture
always burning, always hearing,
the same old tune.