Una Estona De Cel

Quickly he had lunch
he shaved again
and put on his jacket.

Peeking from hiding
like the woman on the couch
watching the soap opera.
And he says goodbye but she doesn't hear him
the elevator silently descends.

And so every Tuesday
he pretends he's
heading to work early.
But he's actually at that bar
where there's never a soul
near Vila-seca.

And each time he feels the trembling
half fear, half joy.

At the bar counter
the waiter will ask
if he wants the usual.
She will arrive
with shining eyes
and for a moment
everything will stop.

And for a brief moment
a moment of heaven,
nothing else matters,
a moment of heaven.
What a coffee will last
is a moment of heaven.

Quickly he had lunch
at the University,
put on a bit of makeup.
Feeling the bell tower
chiming the three quarters,
she straightens her skirt.

She takes the bus and sits in the front
just five minutes that never end.

As always she'll say
'sorry for being late'
blushing. He won't say anything
just smile
and for a moment
everything will stop.

And for a brief moment
a moment of heaven,
nothing else matters,
a moment of heaven.
What a coffee will last
is a moment of heaven.

A thousand times repeating
that it doesn't make sense
to continue this story.

But this stolen time
keeps him going
until he can reach
the next Tuesday.

And for a brief moment
a moment of heaven,
nothing else matters,
a moment of heaven.
What a coffee will last
is a moment of heaven.