Come my dear and take my pen,
for my word doesn't fit what it means.

Come my friend and take my pen,
Wasted ink on each I tell.

Come stranger and take my pen,
I am not good, not a writer to own this pen.

Come and take it,
but my pen will never be the same.

I owned it by heart,
he knows what I feel.

The sadness and the rhythm, 
we together wrote down in the thin line,
Was the theme we wanted,
who worked on with this style.

Come and take my pen,
I wouldn't mind.

Let see how you're going to add colors,
when my pen doesn't want to write.