I have heard countless times Love simply is But how hard it is to simply be As one goes trough life And accepts the fate of simply being Just then, more than anyone, can one know what is love As me, someone not old enough Who was simply born To love, simply is to be Love is the fate of the living And Love has a clock A clock that ticks with Death In the dance of the ages Love, as a fate, Has in his hands the living And nothing is there for one to do Besides to be, to simply be