Sadness Cylindrical Seconds 2

This week has been tiring. I've gotten and presumably lost a job in a few days. The details are what they are, but when you work and then never hear from the boss again on a job that is site-specific, its pretty obvious. I think I did a great job working. I wasn't late. I wasn't rude to the workers or clients. But now how to get paid? Seems she wants to ignore me. She hasn't answered me texts or calls. I've been somewhat sleep-deprived because of the job, too, as I was getting up many hours earlier than I was used to. I like getting up early, mind you. It just caught up to me, and I felt more easily emotionally triggered: Easily teary from music or videos, and yet feeling inklings of mania. I knew I was, too, and I tried to be mindful of this, but physically past it is physically past it, sometimes. I started feeling like people didn't like me, when, in fact, people still do. Boy, does being tired mess with your brain! (Sleep is very important to people with bipolar.) By 5:00 p.m. on Thursday- Its Saturday, now- I wanted to go to crash into bed. I wanted to cry. I got into a fight with the friend who is the subject of this famous post. In fact, what happened next prompted me to post today, but I just don't feel that creative. I feel like listening to this song, "Sadness" by Chopinover and over. I once had the translation, but have since lost it and a search turned up nothing. Its about lost love, but more than that its about 'you're with someone else and do you think of me when you're with her?' And to be sung by a child- what an other-worldly chill- what a warmth, what a comfort, what sadness indeed. It was all that is in that now-infamous post, and more. Amplified and yet like two very old friends who could talk for years- who have been talking for years, who will continue talking for years. The cylindrical conversation that has seemingly always been, that will continue, whether it be having tea or more passionately and intensely in that place that, once again, comes around and will not leave. It can't. It won't. It is that gentle comfort. And yet always on the verge of saying, "Enough!" And it turns around again and that tender look, or the sweet stroke of a finger across the cheek, or the silly grin from behind the shower curtain... Or just talking about things over warm drinks from our past. A well-worn-in friendship that nobody wants to lose and yet.... and yet... And the song plays again. Over and over. You do think of me when you're with her. If only to convince yourself you really don't want me. But you do. And the circle continues. Press play again. He will sing you to sleep one more time. For now.

I've found the translation!

My heart is sad without you,
You who are so far away and who no longer think of me.
Tell me why
do you make my soul suffer, my soul who loves you
and wants you near me?
Every night you are the vision that
make this heart dream, this heart that dreams of love,
but it is an illusion
you will not return to me.
Maybe you are kissing someone else
even though the song that I am singing for you flies
only to you.
I dream gently of time (???)
This is what my heart wants,
my heart that is sad without love.