It lies in my table for a long time
There is one letter under a stack of books.
And maybe not only a year
In one of the quiet alleys
Someone waits for it with hope.
Another one would a long time ago
drop this letter to you.
And maybe in response to him,
On the third or fourth day
The postman would bring an envelope.
The rains pour, the snows sweep
You are so close and far away.
And it may not be destined
You to know that I wrote
To you alone a long time ago.
You are the only one in my destiny
So why, then to you
I've been sending a letter some years yet.
You probably won't believe -
All because I love
I love.