Had you not had hope for me
You wouldn't now be deserted
Like the earth thirsty for rain
Like a mother longing for her children
Waiting for me, your soul dried up
Like the earth thirsty for rain
Like a mother longing for her children
Waiting for me, your soul dried up
From my heart, the nettle grows
The nettle which stung you long ago
When you picked my love
You believed me
That I was not poisoned by sadness
When you picked my love
You believed me
That I was not poisoned by sadness
Yes, that is I, an empty bed
In which I dream of no one
To me it is dark even when it is day
I am, my dear*, unhappy
To me it is dark even when it is day
I am, my dear*, unhappy
From my heart, the nettle grows
The nettle which stung you long ago
When you picked my love
You did not believe me
That I was poisoned by sadness
When you picked my love
You believed me
That I was not poisoned by sadness
Yes, that is I, an empty bed
In which I dream of no one
To me it is dark even when it is day
I am, my dear*, unhappy
To me it is dark even when it is day
I am, my dear*, unhappy