I sought in your affection
a love that I have not had.
What a toy that a boy
lusted for with his soul.
But you are the same as all women,
it was an error to have loved you.
It gets away from me, your rosebush
which drives me crazy.
It was too late to think
that you would be my penance.
How much time I have to weep.
The experience costs dearly.
It was to late to think
that a love might hurt so much.
The rose bush has thorns
and my spirit is weeping.