I just raise my arms
crying out to the sky for a memory,
dreaming of tomorrow
between distant hours,
as if my old age
my old age at the door,
and nostalgia was upon me,
days of light among the most colorful
most colorful
and the murmur of the sea.
And I return to my days,
between races and hardships,
the time is barely
is barely enough to dream,
if only to take a deep breath,
to think of my attempts,
to knock on your door and embrace you,
elusive depth,
heartbreaking patience,
symphony of sighs
ancestral whisper.
And the breeze returns
full of longing,
amidst the roar
of the storms of the soul,
and the friction of desires,
like the original sin,
waiting for the punishment
that will compensate the damage
infringed to the heart,
not mine... yours.
And in your presence,
I'm plucking daisies,
and singing melodies,
I try to get close to your skin
and forget the pain,
an endless litany
of remorse
and regrets,
it will only be enough that your eyes
comfort with their sweetness,
the terrifying pain
of my conscience,
that left a thousand cracks
in the walls of my room.
Don't go away,
let the guilt go,
and when we no longer see it
on the path,
we'll turn our route
towards the sun of feeling,
towards the honey-colored landscape
that will bathe the hours
of our lives,
and the chains
that tied me to the wild past,
and our steps will leave footprints
full of illusion.
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