And I still don’t believe you are inventing a story And very carefully, with little Apostolides in April from faded winter And I can already picture our dreams For the two of us And, holding his breath,Catching the trembling of your lips the touch of Their sensual scent of spring And you still don’t know: I’m Invisible behind keeping Far away yet, but not a stranger,will Weave a Love gift for You And I still do not believe