On the sand that you caress, there was written one word: "love, love."
And now you, you erase it with your hand—
with the hand that caresses me, that touches me absent-mindedly.
Why, why do you not feel anymore that I am here with you?
Now you talk to me without really saying anything—
and your voice is drowned out by the sea.
On the sand, all is empty—and now I seek out your caress.
The only thing that you leave behind—the only thing that remains for me
of you—
that remains for me
of you—
of you.