El Recuerdo de Ella
Victor Manuel
Her Memory
Today that I am so sad
empty of ideas
the memory of her has settled
on my shoulders.
She was like the wine that sweetens the sorrow,
she was like a dream wanting to hold onto her,
she was a clear day, quiet and sincere.
But one morning she took her suitcase
and left a kiss on my forehead
and once again my old sadness.
Sometimes it hurts me and I look for her traces
or I feel nostalgia for small things.
Sometimes I call her and she doesn't answer...
