You have only one treasure—that you are just twenty.
You live only on dreams and what is trendy.
I lead with you a bohemian life
and we do not even have a penny between us.
That has not mattered from the moment we fell in love—
it seems to be obligatory to fall in love fast.
Thanks to your kisses, I forgot all about holding back.
You—you did the same, from the moment we fell in love.
In our sixth floor attic, high above the ground,
we live meagerly like two sparrows—
and when the winter suddenly lets loose,
if the cold bothers us, we hardly complain at all.
That has not mattered from the moment we fell in love—
if there is ice on the window panes—
snuggled in your arms, my arms wrapped around you—
you come back to me no matter what, from the moment we fell in love.
In order to impress me, you pretend to be a jack of all trades—
but you are hard-pressed to drive a nail.
Me, for my part, since anything exasperates you,
out of fear of doing wrong, I do nothing at all.
It does not matter if, among my New Year gifts,
you can never give me jewels,
a bouquet of violets, or even some marjoram—
it pleases me no matter what, from the moment we fell in love.
We often pass for true bohemians—
what does that matter after all is said and done—
because life for us is no longer a problem
from the moment we fell in love—
from the moment we fell in love.