A year after she had still no love, but only the every-night cries
And she was still drinking that depressive wine
Being drunk in solitude, she was giving herself the proper fine.
“The last reincarnation of my soul is on its way” – she was certain,
“my theater play will then end, it is the last time to be up my curtain.
I did what I could, having my soul on mission, riding to leave traces behind,
I won’t come never again, they are and always will be only blind.”
This time she thought as for last she would more receive than give
This time she thought for herself more she would live
This time she thought true love would step by and stay longer
This time she thought to be weaker, and she had to choose to be stronger.
“On Earth”, she said, “this is my last reincarnation’s expedition,
I have done what I could to fulfill my soul’s mission.”
And yet even as for last, her love story wasn’t in the Universe’s plans
“I am cursed”, she said, “the last cycle was only existence in trans.”