Sandra

Sandra, I want to sing to you.
Sandra, but it's not the same,
Sandra, when I used to sing
and only thought about eternity.

Sandra, I prefer to think
that our love is mortal.
Sandra, that fatigue exists
and that our space can be
violated.

Sandra, alone and late
I have to make confessions
but my heart burns
and even if I don't want to, songs
come out.

Sandra, today I'm going to love you,
I don't know if you'll join
my figure at the window...
waiting for tomorrow
to be born again.