I guess the flickering
Of the lights that in the distance,
They mark my return.
They are the same ones that illuminated,
With my pale reflections,
Long hours of pain,
And although I did not want the return
You always return to your first love.
The old street where the echo said:
Yours is his life, yours is his love ,
Under the mocking gaze of the stars
That with indifference today they see me return.
Return
With a withered forehead,
The snows of time
They raised my temple.
To feel,
That life is a breath,
That twenty years is nothing,
That the gaze is feverish
Wandering in the leftovers
He seeks you and names you
Live,
With the soul clinging
To a sweet memory
That I carry again
I am afraid of the encounter
With the past that returns
To face my life.
I am afraid of the nights
That are populated with memories,
They chain my dreams.
But the traveler who flees,
Sooner or later stops his walk
And although the oblivion of everything destroys
I have killed my old illusion
I keep hidden a humble hope
What is all the fortune of my heart.
Return,
With a withered forehead,
The snows of time
They raised my temple.
Feel,
What is a breath of life,
That twenty years is nothing
That the gaze is feverish
Wandering in the shadows
He seeks you and names you.
Live,
With my soul clinging
To a sweet memory
That I cry again.
To feel,
That life is a breath,
That twenty years It is nothing to you,
The gaze is feverish
Wandering in the shadows
It seeks you and names you.
Live,
With the soul clinging
To a sweet memory
That I cry again.

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