Again a sleepless sigh
hides somewhere in the night;
like something unwanted,
with cold eyes you follow my skin.
If I try to reveal my perplexity
I always betray (reveal) a contradiction;
finished decisions and resolutions are lost, [and]
I hurt my love.
Without wanting an escape
or intending to be set free,
my heart is simply obsessed
by that averted gaze; so
with a hand that trembles with loneliness,
it would be better to kill [my own] heart instead.
If nothing at all can be done,
then I won't regret a single thing.
Why is it that unfinished illusions
leave behind nothing but pain?
If, refusing strength, I am utterly swayed,
fleeting disobedience saves me.
If there's another trembling sigh, it freezes me again;
there's always an ambush of hesitation.
The thirst of lips that are forced to be silent
torments love.
If I hold you tightly, if I break down,
although it feels like the same crime,
through utter cowardice
I'm imprisoned by passion.
With a hand engulfed in futility
it would be better to kill [my own] heart instead.
If nothing at all can be done,
then I won't regret a single thing.
With a hand that trembles with loneliness,
it would be better to kill [my own] heart instead.
If nothing at all can be done,
then I won't regret a single thing.