Jim
Maria del Mar Bonet
Jim does not bring me flowers I prefer.
Jim, we do not laugh together, and I do not deserve it,
I do not know why I'm so crazy for Jim.
Jim does not tell me I'm his burning desire
the fire of love that he already does not burn with
despite the years we have been going out.
If I am sick of love
I do like I revenged,
let him get away, but my heart
cracks even more.
I know the day he wants he will leave me,
believe me, either today or tomorrow,
I will always carry with me some of Jim