Image
All along my way
I've dreamt a thousand destinies,
and I've cried a hundred mornings
for not having you in my early days.
If I wait for you, you don't appear,
I'd rather be awake then;
tell me, who, with sweet voices,
is taking you away from my harbour?
Has the wind erased
those ardent kisses
that you left in my arms
saying that you loved me eternally?