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I can't remember the last time
I saw the world this way.
Blue sky behind some golden clouds,
calmed water at the bay.

I lived reading those letters you
write, just to hear your voice.
Your presence was a summer storm,
my reason to rejoice.

I can't remember the last words
you whispered to my ears.
But I can remember your hands
washing away my tears.

I lied to myself to believe
we both will meet again.
But now I understand, even
the greatest songs have end.

I can't remember the last day
I saw your name so close.
Engraved in this grey mossy stone,
beside a rotten rose.

etiquetas: versoclásico, inglés
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