Farewell

And you smiled and knew how to smile with your twenty years worn like this,
how to wear a baggy sweater over a pair of jeans;
how you feel the desire to live
that explodes one day and you don't explain 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 wondering what everything was, seeing each other every evening;
every evening to come up and pick you up with that funny oriental sheep of mine,
every evening there, dancing, climbing the stairs
and hear your footsteps coming, the ticking of your good mood,
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 power to talk to us, play and look at us,
among friends who laugh and play around tables full of wine,
religion of staying late and waiting for morning;
and one night you let it take you away, only the fog and the two of us on sentry duty,
the sleeping city had never been so beautiful.

It was easy to live every hour then,
guitars and flashes of fleeting stories, of rapacious loves,
and every night invent a fantasy like good children of the new era,
every night you seemed to call life to a test.
But amazed and happy we discovered that something had been born deeper down,
we seemed to have found the secret key to the world.

It wasn't easy to love each other, to stay together
or think of having a tomorrow and staying away;
both of them imagining: "Who will it be with?" In everything a constant thought,
a memory as bright and hard as a diamond
and at every step we let ourselves be carried away by an emotion that is not full, not grasped:
Seeing each other again was like being reborn once again.

But every story has the same illusion, its conclusion,
and the sin was believing a normal story to be special.
Now time wears us out and crushes us with every day that passes by running,
it almost seems that he is ironically scrutinizing and looking at us, mocking.
And we really are no longer those heroes ready to face any undertaking together;
we are like two leaves clinging to a branch waiting.

"The triangle tingles and the trumpet plays slow"...

Farewell, don't think about it and forgive me if I took away a little of your summer
with something as fragile as past stories:
maybe once upon a time it could have moved you, but now it's useless I think, because
every time you cry and laugh don't cry and laugh with me...