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I guess the flicker
of the lights that go far away
marking my return
they are the same that illuminated
with their pale reflections
deep hours of pain
and although I didn't want the return
you always go back to your first love
the quiet street, which in the echo said
my life is yours, my love is yours
under the mocking gaze of the stars
who with indifference today see me return
Returning with a wrinkled forehead
the snows of time, silvered my temple
feeling that life is a breath
that 20 years is nothing
that feverish gaze
wandering in the shadow seeks you and names you
Living, with the soul clinging to a sweet memory that I cry again.
I'm afraid of the encounter with the past
that returns to confront my life
I'm afraid of the nights that, populated
with memories, chain my crying,
but the traveler who flees,
sooner or later stops his walk
and although forgetfulness that destroys everything
has killed my old illusion
A humble hope remains hidden
which is all the fortune of my heart.
Returning with a wrinkled forehead
the snows of time, silvered my temple
feeling that life is a breath
that 20 years is nothing
that feverish gaze
wandering in the shadow seeks you and names you
Living, with the soul clinging to a sweet memory that I cry again.
Living, with the soul clinging to a sweet memory that I cry again