despite the long time
|
Since then elapsed
|
Still my chest moved
|
It is remembered with pain
|
From that day when, on a walk
|
A blind woman came to a bank
|
And next to her an old lady
|
That was her guide her and her love
|
And I observed that the little girl
|
With big empty eyes
|
I heard the screaming
|
Of other girls when jumping
|
And I heard her bitterly
|
In a son that was a complaint
|
I asked the old woman:
|
Why shouldn't I play?
|
And at a fixed point I don't know
|
If the pain that I felt
|
He was listening to the girl's voice
|
Or was it that when I looked
|
I warned his old woman
|
That she silently cried her sorrow
|
Oh, blind girl!
|
I said with great regret
|
Come with me, poor thing
|
I gave her a kiss and the blind girl
|
She already had someone to play with
|
And it was so daily
|
When he arrived with his old lady
|
the blind woman was looking for me
|
with so much interest
|
How happy was the poor
|
When she next to me she arrived
|
And she with her pampering managed
|
Let the three of us play...
|
But one day, I well remember
|
She was nothing more than the old lady
|
That she told me: The blind girl
|
She is about to expire...
|
I ran to his crib
|
the blind woman was dying
|
And when she died she told me:
|
Who are you going to play with now?
|
And at a fixed point I don't know
|
If the pain that I felt
|
He was listening to the girl's goodbye
|
Or was it that when I looked
|
I warned his old woman
|
That she silently cried her sorrow
|
Oh, blind girl!
|
I will not be able to forget you;
|
Well, I remember my little daughter
|
That she was also blind
|
And she couldn't play... |