1 May

It is late evening, the 1st of May,
no different than any other day,
all spent ruminating about you,
in despair, not knowing what to do
to convince you to give me a chance
to meet once and start our acquaintance
all over again from the night we
spent dancing and you wished me to be
your girlfriend. We were both so happy!
I’m probably just being sappy,
but it was great. Let’s go back to that!
I don’t understand where this your hate
to me came from. Why do you resent
me so much when I have always meant
and still mean to shower you with love?
I would never hurt you anyhow.
I desire to lay in your arms,
enjoying, admiring all your charms.
Do you know how beautiful and cute
you are to me? That you can’t refute.
Wish there was a way to let you know
all I feel. But to my great sorrow,
I cannot make you listen neither
reconsider us two together,
because you keep pushing me away.
My tale’s as tragic as Mácha’s May.
You forbid me to even try to
approach you again in order to
show you my affection and confess
I still dream of you, love you, and miss.
Even though you don’t care that I do,
I am dying of longing for you.
It’s the 1st May and I, instead of
being loved, am crying my eyes off.