| Whenever skies look grey to me And trouble begins to brew,
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| Whenever the Winter winds become too strong,
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| I concentrate on you.
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| When fortune cries «Nay! |
| Nay!"to me And people declare «You're through!»,
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| Whenever the blues become my only song,
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| I concentrate on you.
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| On your smile so sweet, so tender,
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| When at first your kiss I decline.
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| On the light in your eyes when I surrender,
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| And once again our arms intertwine;
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| And so, when wise men say to me That love’s young dream never comes true,
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| To prove that even wise men can be wrong,
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| I concentrate on you. |