Agosto Bajo La Piel

...in memory of August, to our songs

Everything is the same as when August
welcomed us at his doorstep,
only the day and memory
have stopped you at the threshold.

Every glance is
the fatal search for dawn,
it's that street of the soul
where loneliness walks,
where I wait for you.

Every glance is
the absurd darkness of the world,
it's that fruitful moment
that carries August under the skin
where I get lost.

The crowd is the encounter
with the most tender loneliness,
the same roof, our sky
equally moonlit and silent.

Every glance is
the fatal search for dawn,
it's that street of the soul
where loneliness walks,
where I wait for you.

Every glance is
the absurd darkness of the world,
it's that fruitful moment
that carries August under the skin
where I get lost.