Autumn sand, the beach is sleepy,
A sun by now tired, by now well content...
The sound of voices gets lost, their echo does not return,
The sky has changed: it is now gray....
(There is) only the whispering of the rain upon the sea,
(There is) only your voice.
I returned to that beach in search of the print
Of a body which I still feel beside me.
My fingers sank in the sand
Searching for the kisses that I lost....
(There is) only the whispering of the rain upon the sea,
(There is) only your voice.
Summer loves
Are like buds
Which when they bloom it is but to die.
August's fruit
Is by now very distant,
Don't try to take it, it is no longer for you.
Sat upon the sand, I no longer search for anything,
My gaze gets lost in the sea,
Dreaming up other suns, perhaps new loves
Which will be born and will die without ever blossoming....
(There is) only the whispering of the rain upon the sea,
(There is) only your voice.
Summer loves
Are like buds
Which when they bloom it is but to die.
August's fruit
Is by now very distant,
Don't try to take it, it is no longer for you.
Summer loves
Are like buds
Which when they bloom it is but to die.
August's fruit
Is by now very distant,
Don't try to take it, it is no longer for you.
Summer loves
Are like buds
Which when they bloom it is but to die.
August's fruit
Is by now very distant...