Malinconia

Put a dark period, there without love
looking for a night made for drinking
and make your whole life a glass
and wait for a dawn that brings you to sleep.
And it's melancholy,
it follows you on the way,
it leaves you after an hour,
but you know it comes back again.

Put a friend who now has to leave,
probably doesn't get in touch anymore:
you don't know whether to cry or try to joke,
you say nothing and have a thousand things to say.
And it's melancholy
to keep you company,
it always agrees with you,
but in return who knows what it wants;
and it's melancholy
an hour that goes away
or a year to forget, alone at the bottom of a bar.

Put that one day suddenly on the street
you wonder if this is all life is,
speak a language that for others is wrong
even if you're just a hundred meters from home.
And it's melancholy
friend or not,
it's what's left when the world is not enough for you;
and it's melancholy
and it's the outskirts
it's the only one that knows if you're really feeling bad.

Put that now, after so many words,
behind the door the love waiting for you
what can you do, it was all already planned
in the end it's clear we live for this.
Put that the world, for a month or a moment,
almost completely forgets about you
the evenings at home alone like a dog
you eat something just to not die

And it's melancholy
for everyone, a bit mine too
it's the only one that waits when time is running out fast;
and it's melancholy
takes you away with it,
it's a somewhat enchanted train
that you only take if you've made a mistake.