The doctor has prescribed me love,
I am repeating in the fever,
This recipe I shall deliver
To copy-books, which lie above.
It is prohibited to think
About the love, my friends are shouting,
It is too late to climb this mountain,
It is too hard. My spirits sink.
But Ill reiterate again
Without obeying these advices:
Love is the remedy for crisis,
For love I want to make a lane.