Sumiglia

A breath of death has spread in the air
Faces under the sun are made of marble
Silences are abysses, in dust and ashes
The world, cruel, has slammed its doors

Eternal procession walks without end
With your tomb obscuring every gleam
And rough pain that trembles
Eating away at living at this fleeting hour

And when in time the memory will fade
Every palm of this earth will carry the mark
A dream turned real in an intimate agreement
Of you will have some faithful resemblance

In the air has spread a deadly anguish
The sun now only shines on faces of marble
Silence is an abyss, all beauty dust
The world has cruelly slammed its doors

An endless procession goes towards eternity
With your tomb darkening the day
All is but pain and roughness mixed
And living at this moment is a dead season

When the memory will one day fade
Every piece of this old earth
Will reflect that dream that was your horizon
And your living face will be imprinted on it