Pregonera

Blonde little princess of ivory
owner of my youthful dream,
the one proclaiming flowers
one April day,
I remember through the streets of Paris.
A red rose for you,
red like the longing to love,
roses and white carnations,
white with illusion
and the princess continues her proclamation.

A caress and a carnation
for the lapel, for the love.
The carnation is of illusion,
my heart pierced red.
And the afternoon was dying,
and the proclamation follows me.
A little affection and a carnation,
only the carnation, what remains.

Blonde little princess of ivory,
where did your laughter so subtle go,
along with your dead flowers
my illusion dies.
And I hear the faint echo of your voice.
It's like a whisper without end,
that awakens my anxiety,
it's my crazy fantasy
that returns to dream.
Once again I am happy with your singing.