With his eyes he's looking
for your blushes,
you're trembling gently
from these glances.
His eyes are providently
wrapping you,
you're willingly
allowing to this game.
And I, stuck in the corner,
dare to notice from here
every detail of this show.
And I, stuck in the gloom
with my lunatic eyesight,
have got only one step to hell.
He nodded,
a shiver thrilled him,
you, to his words,
are sending smiles.
He modestly fell silent,
ran out of breath.
You're having regrets
that I am here.
And I, stuck in the corner,
dare to notice from here
all these steps, all these heats.
And I, stuck in the plush
of the chair close by,
am starting to drink my shame.
He's still sneaking
quietly, chirp.
You're babbling, chatting
too merrily.
In his thoughts he's boldly
caressing your temple.
Your white hand
is rushing into his.
And I, stuck in the corner,
can see my doom from here,
at this ball, ridiculous ball
where the Dance Leader, Fate,
keeps telling us:
"Rebinding, switch up".
No, no. It's nothing.
Maybe I was tired.
What do you mean, honey?
No, no. I spent a truly
lovely evening,
let's go.