I did what I could do, even when I didn’t understand you, I loved you. But you no longer need my company, and I am forced to let you go.

I stand before a closed door, waiting for it to open, but sorrow lulls me to sleep, and I judge myself. What is my sin, tell me, for which I cannot get satisfaction? And what is the reason that I am no longer lovable?

We rested under a mother’s heart, the cross could be shared, and so could happiness, as I love you and you love me. Yet you don’t need the moments we’ve lived together, I can’t even grasp that you don’t care who I am.

In my inner battles, I still go against myself, for what I cannot help, I also nail my own heart. To bleed, to feel, to know what death is like, when the fraternal bond is broken, and what was, also goes to the grave.

… I stand before a closed door, waiting for it to open, but sorrow lulls me to sleep, and I judge myself. What is my sin, tell me, for which I cannot get satisfaction? And what is the reason that I am no longer lovable?… … that I am no longer lovable?…