In spite of the distance

In spite of the distance, I await your return sitting at the table of memory, longing for the happy days and the golden sadnesses, those! that hang on the senses of Love.

What does it matter if you don't return, if you don't, I will remain in the Sea of your memory, with the most sublime hope of the retreating son, confessing his dreams and his childhood poems.

If you see him, don't tell him that I cry, I don't cry anymore! I too! one day I went to travel the world, and I left my illusions in the sea of my people, on the soil of my childhood.

Don't tell him, that I left, wanting to see him, don't tell him! that I suffered, with the photos on my pillow, that I dreamed of going to heaven hand in hand with my beloved.

Son, don't come back, I'm already gone! stay in the dawn of other clouds, remembering that I loved you, that you were the uproar of my days, my true love.