I don't know how

I don't have a speech, not even this one
nor farewells that embrace you
warm you one last time

I know the books you read
the kind of films you watched
your worries and the things you ate

yet I don't know you well enough
to really be able to say who you are
therefore my speech is this one:
your own diary to readout

We looked around and soon we found
a shady spot, where
we quite passionately
enjoyed each other

sheltered but in public
what certainly is inexcusable
so I felt embarrassed
while I cried of happiness

it was too wonderful to tell
I found it hard to explain
and didn't know how to broach it well
couldn't overcome my shame

but tomorrow night, if I'm at ease and ready
I do want to discuss my tears seriously
before his mouth touches mine

because I think, above all, they are a sign
that we shouldn't do the nice thing
no more and better restrict our delight to kissing

Ik weet niet hoe  Ich weiss nicht wie