The odor of love,
once existed in our hearts.
Those were the days of the yore,
when in our hearts love we bore.
Filled with lust,
with anger unjust,
read the requiem,
for the undead soul.
To cry, I try,
but my eyes refuse.
The water is finished,
in its muscular tubes.
To smile, I try,
and I succeed as well.
A feeling of happiness,
envelops one's soul,
And I realise,
It's you, it's the odor of love.
