And she is like a song
A song that the wind whistles incomplete
Died on the skirts of any hill
The poet left and even the poem died
Leaves a bud, a bud with all its hidden charm
He left bragging about bravery with his forgetfulness
Today the bud of forgetfulness is already a flower

Your yearnings for love hurt me
They hurt me as if they were mine
And it hurts me to feel you my girl
Full of love with your empty hands

Your yearnings for love hurt me
They hurt me as if they were mine
And it hurts me to feel you my girl
Full of love with your empty hands

A candle lit with love
Of illusions that lost die in flight
That burns all its emotions and desires
And burning fades its light of passion
The flower opened its petals
The dew shook her with a morning kiss
But that kiss flooded her chest with cold
And so the morning star in her sky went out

Your yearnings for love hurt me
They hurt me as if they were mine
And it hurts me to feel you my girl
Full of love with your empty hands

Your yearnings for love hurt me
They hurt me as if they were mine
And it hurts me to feel you my girl
Full of love with your empty hands

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