That which is hot like sun
Son may love and love
But must he be hurt so much?
Oh! An affection which exists in the sun
The pain in courtship is joy sad
It is mad
Time to time,
There is trouble
Oh son is living like a dead noble
No hope that he will live longer
His lover causes this
If he continues he will die
He would live if he does the right
Call son
And ask him if we should call this love
« return.