Even if you count and compare them with all the stars in the sky, the wounds on my heart would still turn out to be four or five more.

The poet paints a striking, tender picture of heartbreak by measuring his grief against the vastness of the universe. He suggests that even if you counted every single star scattered across the night sky, the scars on his aching heart would still outnumber them by a handful. It is an exquisite exaggeration that makes deep, overwhelming sorrow feel intimate and almost gently spoken over a cup of tea.