They say my lover was found as an infant,
abandoned in a forest of roses.
Yet even now he runs from the smallest spider,
afraid to walk alone when night descends.
On the street he moves with girlish airs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My lover\u2014
my delicate lover\u2014
ah, bastard! my lover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A matchmaker brought him to me,
from a village far away,
from a family proud with lands and estates,
a family the people call \u201csire.\u201d
Yes, he was chosen for me,
the husband my parents desired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My lover\u2014
my betrothed, their chosen prize\u2014
my lover\u2014
ah, bastard! my lover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even on cold nights, he sleeps alone.
He speaks only of his family\u2019s pride.
Our union is nothing but a contract on paper,
while my youth withers, wasted, beside him.
He polishes his image, deceiving the world,
but not my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My lover\u2014
my smooth-tongued lover\u2014
ah, bastard! my lover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I too have a tomorrow.
At times I ask if we should part.
He falls to his knees, begs me to stay\u2014
fearing the world\u2019s laughter
more than the loss of my love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They say my lover was found as an infant,
abandoned in a forest of roses.
Yet still he runs from the smallest spider,
still trembles at the dark of night,
still struts the street with girlish airs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My lover\u2014
my delicate lover\u2014
ah, bastard! my lover.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n