The whole world will never love you
Or pretend to love you,
Even though simple pretending
Would make you happy,
Give you a happy ending.
Vast distances and indifference
Will trouble you the most,
Or hate from one person you hate,
Or, a little worse, one you perhaps, love,
Because once, or twice, they were not indifferent.
The hate is easy. But love? You might struggle to know what it meant.
You will probably try to know it until the end,
When, at last, you glimpse the truth.
Love cannot, but will, if it wants, pretend.
