At any rate I anchored my happiness on a tempestuous ocean –
but it was you who made me do it, I swear.
Now I am a leaf on the ebb, later a leaf on the flow.
I want to be happy, I swear that’s all I want.
Now I am the recipient of an interrogation:
Are you really hurting? Or did you choose to hurt?
Perhaps I chose to hurt, but it was you who chose my pain.
Now I am a prophet without a prophecy; a professor without a profession.
At any rate it was you who anchored my happiness to a tempestuous ocean.
Now I am a penitent without a confession; a judge without a code.
END