There is a legend in my country
for those young men who are broken-hearted.
If love has treated you so badly,
to ease the pain of the newly-parted,
they say go down by the gentle seashore,
find a calm, solitary place.
And where the tide has run out before,
you make the colours of her face.
Black sand, to draw her raven tresses.
White sand, to picture her cheeks and forehead.
And with the colours of magenta,
you paint those sweet lips so warm and red.
And then in silence you.think about her,
every heart-felt memory.
For when the tide has washed away the traces,
then at last you will be free.