Sometimes I think about my love,
And I wonder; how could I love so?
Sometimes I stop and listen,
And then, all I hear is silence and darkness.
Hours, days go by, sometimes it takes longer.
I don't dream that dream anymore,
And again, the world becomes an ordinary place.
There is noticeably less laughter in not-loving.
And when I think your eyes are just plain,
And there is no reflection of my love in them,
Colourful carousels disappear from the funfair of my life.
Somehow, it becomes harder to make the unloving-self happy.
I don't love it when I don't love you,
The world doesn't seem dreamy to me anymore.
As the rain of my life drips upon my red umbrella,
I am waiting for you, while the memories pass without us.
Sometimes I doubt it, don't blame me for that.
I can’t apologize for loving, but maybe I should.
Stay worthy of longings that do not disappear.
The years go by, but what remains is so like love.
Love,
Kristina
Saturday, January 8th, 2022
Ne volim kad te ne volim
Ponekad mislim o svojoj ljubavi,
I pitam se; kako sam mogla tako voljeti?
Ponekad zastanem i osluhnem,
I onda, sve sto čujem su tišina i mrak.
Prolaze sati, dani, ponekad se oduži trajanje,
Više te ne volim i više ne sanjam taj san,
I tada svijet postaje neko obično mjesto.
Ima osjetno manje smijeha u nevoljenju.
I kad pomislim da su tvoje oči bez sjaja,
I da u njima nema odbljeska moje ljubavi,
Nestane šarenih ringišpila u lunaprku mog života.
Nekako, postaje mi teže usrećiti nevoljenu sebe.
Ne volim kad te ne volim,
Svijet mi se tad ne čini vrijedan sanjanja.
Dok kiša mog života rominja po mom crvenom kišobranu,
Ja te čekam, premda uspomene i dalje prolaze bez nas.
Nekad posumnjam, ne zamjeri mi moja nevoljenja.
Nemogu se ispričavati za voljenje, a možda bih trebala.
Ostani vrijedan sanjana i žudnje što ne nestaje.
Da, godine prolaze, al’ ono što ostaje baš liči na ljubav.
S ljubavlju,
Kristina
Subota, 8. siječnja 2022.
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