| .. And you smiled and you knew how to smile with your twenty years worn like this,
|
| How to wear a baggy sweater over a pair of jeans;
|
| How do you feel the will to live that bursts one day and you do not explain the Why:
|
| A cradled thought or a love that was born and you don't know what it is.
|
| Long days between yesterday and tomorrow, strange days,
|
| Days of wondering what it was all about, seeing each other every evening;
|
| Every evening go up to get you with that funny oriental ram of mine,
|
| Every evening there, at a dance pace, go up the stairs
|
| And hear your footsteps coming, the ticking of your good humor,
|
| When you opened the door, the smile entered my heart every time.
|
| Then down to the bar where we meet, our alcove,
|
| It was so much to be able to talk to each other, to play watching us,
|
| Among the friends who laugh and play around the tables full of wine,
|
| Religion of staying late and waiting for morning:
|
| And one night you let yourself be carried away, just the fog and the two of us in Sentinel,
|
| Never had the sleeping city looked so beautiful.
|
| It was easy to live then, every hour, guitars and flashes of fleeting stories,
|
| Of rapacious loves,
|
| And every night come up with a fantasy like good children of the new era,
|
| Every night you seemed to be calling life to a test.
|
| But surprised and happy we discovered that something deeper had been born,
|
| We seemed to have found the secret key to the world.
|
| It was not easy to love each other, to stay together
|
| And think of having a tomorrow, stay away;
|
| Both of them imagining: "Who will I be with?" A thought in everything
|
| Constant,
|
| A bright and hard memory like a diamond
|
| And at every step, let us be carried away by an emotion that is not full, not
|
| Cultured:
|
| Seeing each other again was like being born again.
|
| But every story the same illusion, its conclusion,
|
| And the sin was to believe that a normal story was special.
|
| Now time wears us out and crushes us with every running day,
|
| It almost seems ironic that he scrutinizes and looks at us mockingly.
|
| And we really are no longer those heroes ready together to face every
|
| Business;
|
| We are like two leaves clinging to a waiting branch.
|
| «The Triangle tingles» ... farewell, don't think about it and forgive me
|
| If I took you away a little summer with something fragile like past stories.
|
| Maybe once it could have moved you but now it's useless I think, because
|
| Whenever you cry and laugh you don't cry and laugh with me |