I loved you, but I did not tell you. I loved you, but I did not utter your name. I loved you, but I could never shouted out to call you back. I could not even whisper into your ear. That's why I started writing your name on the sandy beach, on the clay of river bank, in the air and on the pages of my diary. And that way I finished up a whole diary just by writing about you and only you. Then you disappeared, but poor poetries, written on the pages of my old poor diary, remained with me. I fell in love with it. That's why I'm single and I love it!
