What do you gain by making me small?
From you I've asked for nothing— not time, not money, not help!
I haven't even asked, not clearly, for love—not even now!
Why do you speak with such cruelty? Is there nothing in your heart for me but contempt and scorn?
What has your pride whispered in your ear? Has it told you I'm nothing but some street person? Or has it said that making people cry brings such laughter?
Is this love of mine only one-sided, then?
Don't lie— even now, in these arms, the scent of your hair lingers.